way peaceably, and at
once. This he reluctantly consented to do, and the judge walked with him
to the bank, which he entered.

While this was going on, John had literally held Uncle Billy captive.
The touchy old man's ire was aflame at its highest pitch, and he wanted
to fight. When the coast was clear John reminded him of the urgent need
which called them to the country, and escorted him to his buggy. Then,
assuring him that he would return immediately, and begging him to remain
in his buggy, Glenning hastily sought the livery stable. While he was
waiting for his horse to be gotten ready he saw, diagonally across the
street, a brick building with the words Macon National Bank, in large
letters over the door.

CHAPTER VIII

By the time the start was made Mr. Hoonover had cooled down somewhat. He
went in front, of course, in his capacity as guide, but all along the
two and a half miles drive he was constantly jerking about in his seat
to look back and shout some question or remark to the man in his wake.
Thus before their destination was reached he had proven, in tones loud
enough for all the countryside to hear, that the man who had attacked
him was indeed part negro, that he himself always lived at peace with
his neighbours, and that from this day forward he intended to go
"loaded" for Marston. The garrulity of the old farmer annoyed Glenning
somewhat, who had his own forebodings as to the result of the
unfortunate encounter on the street, and he replied to Mr. Hoonover's
demonstrations only by a nod of the head, or a smile. So busy was that
gentleman looking behind to see that his remarks were heard, that his
horse drew him almost in front of the Scribbenses before he knew it.
When he suddenly discovered his proximity to the infected shack, and
realized that his horse was moving in a slow jog, he tightened his reins
and began to belabour his beast with the staff he held. As he dashed at
a gallop past the dreaded spot he shouted some unintelligible
communication wildly over his shoulder, and was out of sight before
Glenning drew up at a broken down stake-and-rider fence skirting the
road. He looked about him as he got out and hitched his horse. The spot
seemed the abomination of desolation. The by-road was rutty and not
kept; deep sluices showed on either side of it, where no effort had been
made to check the ravages of heavy rains. A worthless species of grass
grew in sickly clumps, dust-covered. Blackberr