frame was
braced to an extreme tension. "Ise bawn wid a cawl! De blood anssuh!"

"It wasn't the Cross-Roads, Uncle Xenophon," said Warren Smith, laying
his hand on the old man's shoulder.

Xenophon rose to his feet. He stretched a long, bony arm straight to the
west, where the Cross-Roads lay; stood rigid and silent, like a seer;
then spoke:

"De men whut shot Marse Hawkliss lies yondeh, hidin' f'um de light o'
day. An' _him_"--he swerved his whole rigid body till the arm pointed
northwest--"he lies yondeh. You won't find him heah. Dey fought 'im een
de fiel's an' dey druggen 'im heah. Dis whim dey lay 'im down. Ise bawn
wid a cawl!"

There were exclamations from the listeners, for Xenophon spoke as one
having authority. Suddenly he turned and pointed his outstretched hand
full at Judge Briscoe.

"An' dass de main," he cried, "dass de main kin tell you Ah speak de
trufe."

Before he was answered, Eph Watts looked at Briscoe keenly and then
turned to Lige Willetts and whispered: "Get on your horse, ride in, and
ring the court-house bell like the devil. Do as I say!"

Tears stood in the judge's eyes. "It is so," he said, solemnly. "He
speaks the truth. I didn't mean to tell it to-day, but somehow--" He
paused. "The hounds!" he cried. "They deserve it! My daughter saw them
crossing the fields in the night--saw them climb the fence, hoods,
gowns, and all, a big crowd of them. She and the lady who is visiting
us saw them, saw them plainly. The lady saw them several times, clear as
day, by the flashes of lightning--the scoundrels were coming this way.
They must have been dragging him with them then. He couldn't have had a
show for his life amongst them. Do what you like--maybe they've got him
at the Cross-Roads. If there's a chance of it--dead or alive--bring him
back!"

A voice rang out above the clamor that followed the judge's speech.

"'Bring him back!' God could, maybe, but He won't. Who's travelling
my way? I go west!" Hartley Bowlder had ridden his sorrel up the
embankment, and the horse stood between the rails. There was an angry
roar from the crowd; the prosecutor pleaded and threatened unheeded; and
as for the deputy sheriff, he declared his intention of taking with him
all who wished to go as his posse. Eph Watts succeeded in making himself
heard above the tumult.

"The Square!" he shouted. "Start from the Square. We want everybody, and
we'll need them. We want every one in Carlow to be implicated in