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Updated: May 13, 2025
"Can't you tell the children a story, Mr. Yancy? Something about their own neighborhood I think would be nice, something with a moral," the pleasant earnest voice f Mrs. Ferris roused the Scratch Hiller from his meditations. "Yes, ma'am, I reckon I can tell 'em a story." He stood up, filling the doorway with his bulk.
Carrington's kin to me, Polly," explained Yancy to Mrs. Cavendish. His voice was far from steady, for Hannibal had been gathered into his arms and had all but wrecked the stoic calm with which the Scratch Hiller was seeking to guard his emotions. Polly smiled and dimpled at the Kentuckian. Trained to a romantic point of view she had a frank liking for handsome stalwart men.
They first lifted Yancy into the circle of illumination cast by the fire Keppel had started on the hearth of flat stones before the shanties. Then, with Constance to hold a pan of warm water, Mrs. Cavendish deftly bathed the gaping wound in Yancy's shoulder where Murrell had driven his knife. This she bandaged with strips torn from her petticoat.
"I 'low it will have to be fixed that-a-ways," agreed Yancy. After he had parted with Solomon Mahaffy the judge applied himself diligently to shaping that miracle-working document which he was preparing as an offset to whatever risk he ran in meeting Fentress.
Yancy accepted his changed fortunes with philosophic composure. Technically he filled the position of overseer at The Oaks, but the judge's activity was so great that this position was largely a sinecure. The most arduous work he performed was spending his wages.
Fact is, the general didn't leave much beyond an old account-book or two; I imagine that before his death he destroyed the bulk of his private papers; it looked as if he'd wished to break with the past. His mind must have been affected." "Has Yancy any legal claim on the boy?" inquired Murrell.
As if the very place were evil, the judge hurried down the drive toward the road. At the gate he paused and turned on his companions, but his features wore a look of dignity that forbade comment or question. He held out his hand to Yancy. "Sir," he said, "if I could command the riches of the Indies, it would tax my resources to meet the fractional part of my obligations to you."
Then, as they staggered to and fro, Yancy dully bent on strangling his enemy, Slosson whom the sight of blood had wonderfully sobered rushed out from the bar and let loose a perfect torrent of blows with his club. Murrell felt the fingers that gripped him grow weak, and Yancy dropped heavily to the floor.
"I was just thinkin', sir," he said, "that if it would be any comfort to you, we'll tie up to the bank right here and wait until you can travel. I'm powerfully annoyed at having fetched you all this way!" But Yancy shook his head. "I'll be glad to go on to Memphis with you. If my nevvy got away from Murrell, that's where I'll find him. I reckon folks will be kind to him and sort of help him along.
"Don't you think it is too bad, Mr. Yancy, the way those children have been neglected? There is nothing for them but to run wild." "Well, I seen some right good children fetched up that-a-ways smart, too. You see, ma'am, there's a heap a child can just naturally pick up of himself." "Oh!" and the monosyllable was uttered rather weakly. Mr.
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