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Updated: May 13, 2025
Early in November the judge set out by stage on his journey east; he was accompanied by Yancy and Hannibal, from neither of whom could he bring himself to be separated; and as the woods, flaming now with the touch of frost, engulfed the little town, he turned in his seat and looked back.
"I rode out to the Hill to say good-by to Hannibal and to you, but they said you were here and that the trial was today." Captain Murrell, with Crenshaw and the squire, came from the house, and Murrell's swarthy face lit up at sight of the girl. Yancy, sensible of the gulf that yawned between himself and what was known as "the quality," would have yielded his place, but Betty detained him.
He drew Yancy close alongside the raft, and, slipping a hand under each arm, pulled him clear of the water. The swift current swept the raft on down the stream. It rode fairly in the center of the lane of light, but no eye had observed its passing. Mr.
If, on the other hand, he knowed of this order from the co't, he was not only guilty of assault, but he was guilty of resistin' an officer of the co't." The squire paused impressively. His audience drew a long breath. The impression prevailed that the case was going against Yancy, and more than one face was turned scowlingly on the fat little justice. "Can a body drap a word here?"
But the boy was, and I took him in my buggy and drove off. I'd got as far as the Ox Road forks when I met Yancy " "What happened then? but a body don't need to ask! Looks like the law was all you had on your side!" and the squire glanced waggishly about the room. "I showed Yancy the order " "You lie, Dave Blount; you didn't!" said Yancy.
They were now seated before a cheerful fire that blazed on the hearth, the boy very close to Yancy with one hand clasped in the Scratch Hiller's, while about them were ranged the six small Cavendishes sedately sharing in the reunion of uncle and nevvy, toward which they felt they had honorably labored.
Yancy gazed respectfully but uncertainly at Chills and Fever. "Then all I got to say is that I've traveled considerably, mostly between Scratch Hill and Balaam's Cross Roads, meeting with all kinds of folks; but I never seen an earl afo. I take it they are some scarce." "They are. I don't reckon there's another one but me in the whole United States." "Think of that!" gasped Yancy.
"At his age, too!" commented Yancy. "And my daughter's the Lady Constance," said Polly. "Havin' such a mother she ain't no choice," observed Yancy, with an air of gentle deference. "Dick's got the family, Mr. Yancy. My folks, the Rhetts, was plain people." "Some of 'em ain't so noticeably plain, either," said Yancy. "Sho', you've a heap of good sense, Mr.
You wait until Sunday and see what I do fo' my nevvy," said Yancy. He was as good as his implied promise, but the day began discouragingly with an extra and, as it seemed to Hannibal, an unnecessary amount of soap and water. "You owe it to yo'self to show a clean skin in the house of worship. Just suppose one of them nice ladies was to cast her eye back of yo' ears!
"I know nothing about the boy," and Fentress took a step toward the door. "Stay where you are!" commanded the judge. "If you attempt to leave this room to call your niggers I'll kill you on its threshold!" But Yancy and Cavendish had stepped to the door with an intention that was evident, and Fentress' thin face cast itself in haggard lines.
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