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Updated: June 21, 2025
Crenshaw nodded his acquiescence to the lawyer's conjecture touching the ultimate fate of the Barony. "I reckon, sir, I'll want to protect myself, but if there are any of his own kin who have a fancy to the place I'll put no obstacle in their way." "Who are the other creditors?" asked Bladen.
"The police always search prisoners, I believe." "My God, you don't intend to turn me over to the police?" Crenshaw exclaimed. "Why not?" And when Crenshaw did not reply: "Wherein are you different from any other felon taken red-handed except that you were taken twice in the same night, indeed?" "Think of the scandal that will ensue!" Crenshaw cried. "It won't affect me!" Harleston laughed.
When I got down to help her into the cart I saw she was toting a child in her arms." "What did the woman look like, Bob?" said Crenshaw. "She wa'n't exactly old and she wa'n't young by no manner of means; I remember saying to myself, that child ain't yo's, whose ever it is.
We got in company with a young South Carolinian just before we got to Cumberland Mountain, and Crenshaw soon knew all about his business. He had been to Tennessee to buy a drove of hogs, but when he got there pork was dearer than he calculated, and he declined purchasing. We concluded he was a prize. Crenshaw winked at me; I understood his idea.
Crenshaw had already made it plain that General Quintard's creditors would have lean pickings at the Barony, intimating that he himself was the chiefest of these and the one to suffer most grievously in pocket. Further than this, Mr. Bladen saw that the old house was a ruin, scarcely habitable, and that the thin acres, though they were many and a royal grant, were of the slightest value.
It was rather squally times, but any port in a storm: we took the negro that night on the bank of a creek which runs by the farm of our friend, and Crenshaw shot him through the head. We took out his entrails and sunk him in the creek.
"With your permission," Crenshaw replied, proceeding to go through Harleston's pockets, and finding nothing but the usual which he replaced. He came last to the breast-pocket of the coat; in it were the wallet and one letter the letter that had brought Harleston here. "It caught you!" Crenshaw smiled. "There's no bait like a pretty woman!" Harleston raised his eyebrows and shrugged his answer.
I rolled up his clothes and put them into his portmanteau, as they were brand-new cloth of the best quality. I mounted as fine a horse as ever I straddled, and directed my course for Natchez in much better style than I had been for the last five days. 'Myself and a fellow by the name of Crenshaw gathered four good horses and started for Georgia.
John, I mean Christmas," objected Yancy. "Oh, very well, he means Christmas then!" said Crenshaw. "The evening befo', it was, and I'd gone to Fayetteville to get my Christmas fixin's; there was right much rain and some snow falling." Mr. Yancy's guiding light was clearly accuracy. "Just at sundown I hooked up that blind mule of mine to the cart and started fo' home.
The fine days he professed to regard with keen suspicion as weather breeders, when it was imprudent to go far from home, especially in the direction of the Crenshaw timber lands, which for years had been the scene of all his gainful industry, and where he seemed to think nature ready to assume her most sinister aspect.
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