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IJ THE
I * PRODIGAL
JUDGE
,'J ,i' \By VA JOHAN KESTER.
lUI'SrJtATfGXS ByD.Mslvju
Com /jV/ TketbtMi Mreem H>*o*nr
A step sounded in the hall and an
instant later Hicks entered the room
without the formality of knocking, j
Ware recognized his presence with a
glance of indifference, but did not
speak. Hicks slouched to his employ- j
er's side and handed him a note which
The Planter’s Knees Knocked To
gether.
proved to be from Fentress. Ware
read and tossed it aside.
“If he wants to see me why don't
he come bore?” he growled.
“T reckon that old tellow they call
Judge Price has sprung something
sudden on the colonel.” said Hicks
' He was out here the first thing th/s
morning: you’d have thought he
owned IWle Plaint There was .a
couple of strangers with him, and he
bad me in and tired questions at me
for half an hour; then he hiked off
up to 7Vie Oaks.”
■“Jturreirs been arrested,” said Ware
in a dull level voice. Hicks gave him
h glance of unmixed astonishment.
"Mb!"
■“Yw, hv God!”
"Who’d risk it?”
“Risk it? Man, he almost fainted
dead &® r ay—a damned coward. Hell!”
■“How do you know this?” asked
Hicks, appalled.
“I was with him when he was tak
**n —It was Hues —the man he trusted
more than &uy other!” Ware gave
the overseer a ghastly grin and was
silent, ’mat in that silence he heard
the drumming of his own heart, tie
went on. “I tell you, to save him
nelf, John Murrell will implicate the
rest of us; we've pot to get him free,
and then, by hell —we ought to knock
him in the head; he isn't fit to live?”
"The jail ain’t built that’ll hold
toim!" muttered Hicks.
“(X course, ho can't be held,"
agreed Ware. "And he’ll never be
brought to trial; no lawyer will dare
appear 'against him, no jury will dare
to find him guilty; but there’s Hues,
what about him?*’ He paused. The
two men looked at each other for a
long moment.
"Where did they carry the cap
tain?”
“T don’t know."
"It looks like the Clan was in a
hell-tired hole —but shucks'. What
will be easier than to tlx Hues? —and
while they're fixing folks they’d bet
ter not overlook that old fellow Price.
He’s got some notion about Fentress
and the boy.” Mr. Hicks did not con
sider it necessary to explain that he
•was himself largely responsible for
this.
"How do you know that?" demand
ed Ware.
"He as good as said so." Hicks
looked uneasily at the planter. He
knew himself to be compromised. The
stranger named Cavendish -had forced
an admission from him that Murrell
would not condone If it came to his
knowledge. He had also acquired a
•very proper and wholesome fear or
Judge Slocum Price. He stepped close
to Ware’s side. "What’ll some of the
iglrl, Tom? Can you figure that out?"
He questioned, sinking his voice al
most to a whisper. But Ware was in
capable of speech, again his terrors
completely overwhelmed him. "1
reckon you'll have to find another
overseer. I’m going to strike out for
Texas," said Hicks.
Ware’s eyes met his for an instant.
He had thought of flight, too; was
->qj thinking of it. but greed was a.
much a part of his nature as fear;
Belle Plain was a prize not to be light
ly cast aside, and ii was almost his.
He lurched across the room to the
window. If he were going to act, the
sooner he did so the better, and gain
a respite from his fears. The road
down the coast slid away before his
heavy eyes; he marked each turn,
then a palsy of fear shook him, his
heart beat against his ribs, and he
stood gnawing his lips while he gazed
up at the sun.
“Do you get what I say, Tom? 1
am going to quit these parts,” said
Hicks, "Ware turned slowdy from the
window.
“All right, Hicks. You mean you
want me to settle with you, Is that
it?” he asked.
“Yes, I’m going to leave while 1
can; maybe I can’t later on,’’ said
Hicks stolidly. He added: “I am go
ing to start down the coast ae soon
as It turns dark, aud before It’s day
again I’ll have put the good miles be
tween me and these parts.”
"You’re going down the coast?”
and Ware was again conscious of the
quickened beating of his heart. Hicks
nodded. "See you don't meet up with
John Murrell,” said Ware.
“I’ll take that chance. It seems a
heap better to me than staying Here.”
Ware looked from the window. The
shadows were lengthening across the
lawn.
“Better start now, Hicks,” he ad
vised.
Til wait until it turns dark.”
‘ You'll need a horse.”
“I was going to help myself to one.
This ain’t no time to stand on cere-,
uiony,” said Hicks shortly.
“Slosson shouldn't be left In the
lurch like this —or your brother’s
folks—”
"They’ll have to figure It out for
themselves, same as me,” rejoined
Hicks.
"You can stop there as you go by.”
“No,” said Hicks. “I never did be
lieve in this damn foolishness about
the girl, and I \von’t go near George's
"I don't ask you to go there; you
can give them the signal from the
head of the. bayou. All I want is for
you to stop and light a tire on the
shore. They'll know what that means.
I’ll give you a horse and fifty dol
lars for the job.”
Hicks' eyes sparkled, but he only
said:
‘ Make it twice that and maybe we
can deal.”
Racked and tortured, Ware hesi
tated; but the sun was slipping into
the west; his windows blazed with
the hot light.
"You swear you’ll do your part?”
he said thickly. He took his purse
from Ills pocket and counted out the
amount due Hicks. He named the
total, and paused irresolutely.
“Don’t you want the fire lighted?"
asked Hicks. He was familiar with
his employer’s vacillating moods.
“Yes,” answered Ware, his lips
quivering; and slowly, with shaking
fingers, he added to the pile of bills
in Hicks’ hand.
‘‘Well, take care of yourself,” said
Hicks, when the count was complete.
He thrust the roll of bills into his
pocket and moved to the door.
Alone again, the planter collapsed
into his chair, breathing heavily, but
his terrors swept over him and left
him with a savage sense of triumph
This passed; he sprang up, intending
to recall Hicks and unmake his bar
gain. What had he been thinking or
—safety lay only in flight! Before he
reached the door his greed was In the
ascendant. He dropped down on the
edge of his bed, his eyes fixed on the
window. The sun sank lower. From
where he sat he saw It through the
upper half of the sash, blood-red and
livid In a mist of fleecy clouds.
It was In the tops of the old oaks
now, which sent their shadows into
his room. Again maddened by his
U,i,
the dec
one dominat
vanquished hit.
He watched t>
watched the r<
the river; he
pear. He L
would so-m >•
not to l
once! F
was d--
gulsh t'
of the great fields framed by the dark
ening sky. Then in the silence he
heard the thud of hoofs.
> CHAPTER XXVI.
The Judge Names His Second.
“Price—” began Mahaffy. They were
back in Raleigh In the room the judge
railed .his office, and this was Ma
haffy’s first opportunity to ease his
mind on the subject of the duel, as
they had only just parted from Yancy
and Cavendish, who had stopped at
one of the stores to make certain
purchases for the raft.
“Not a word, Solomon —it had to
come. I am going to kill him. 1
shall feel better then.”
“What if he kills you?” demanded
,*R fli '! ii 17
‘lt Will Be Quite Informal, the Code It
Scarcely Applicable.”
Mahaffy harshly. The judge shrugged
his shoulders.
“That Is as It may be.”
“Have you forgotten your grand
son?” Mahaffy’s voice was still harsh
and rasping.
“I regard my meeting with Fentress
as nothing less than a sacred duty
to him.”
“We know no more than we did
this morning,” said Mahaffy. “You
are mixing up all sorts of side issues
with what should be your real pur
pose."
"Not at alt, Solomon —not at ait! 1
look upon my grandson’s speedy re
covery as an assured fact. Fentress
dare not hold him. He knows he is
run to earth at last.”
“Price—”
"No, Solomon —no, my friend, we
will not speak of it again. You will
go back to Belle Plain w ith Yancy and
Cavendish; you must represent me
there. We have as good as found
Hannibal, but we must be active in
Miss Malroy’s behalf. For us that has
an important bearing on the future,
and since I cannot, yon must be at
Belle Plain when Carrington arrives
with his pack of dogs. Give him the
advantage of your sound and mature
judgment, Solomon; don’t let any
false modesty keep you in the back
ground.
“Who’s going to second you?”
snapped Mahaffy.
The judge was a picture of Indif
ference.
“It will be quite informal, the code
Is scarcely applicable; I merely in
tend to remove him because he is not
lit to live.”
"At sun-up!” muttered Maliaffy.
"I intend to start one day right ,
even if I never live to begin another," j
mid the judge, a sudden fierce light
flashing from his eyes. "I feel that I
tnis is the turning point in niy ca
reer, Solomon!" he went oh. “The
beginning of great things! But I
hall take no chances with the fu
ture; I shall prepare for every pos
sible contingency. I am going to
make you and Yancy my grandson’s ]
guardians. There’s a hundred thou
sand acres of land hereabout that j
must come to him. I shall outline in \
writing the legal steps to be taken to 1
substantiate his claims. Also he will ;
Inherit largely from me at my death." j
Something very like laughter es- j
raped from Mahaffy’s lips.
“There you go, Solomon, with your
inopportune mirth! What in God’s |
name have I if I haven’t hope? Take
that from me and what would I be? j
Why, the very fate I have been fight
ing off with tooth and nail would
overwhelm me. I’d sink into unim
portance—my unparalleled misfor
tunes would degrade me to a level
with the commonest! No, sir, I’ve
never been without hope, and though
I’ve fallen I’ve always got up. What
Fentress has is based on money he
stole from me. By God, the days of
his profit-taking are at an end! lam
going to strip him. And even if I
don’t live to enjoy what’s mine, my
grandson shall! He shall wear vel
vet and a lace collar and ride his pony
y-'t. by God, as a gentleman’s grand
son should!"
“It sounds well, Price, but where’s
f he money coming from to push a law
suit?"
The judge waved this aside.
“The means will be found, Solo
mon. Our horizon is lifting—l can
see it lilt! Don’t drag me back from
the portal of hope! We’ll drink the
stuff that comes across the water;
I’H warm the cockles of your heart
'-nth imported brandy. I carry twenty
years’ hunger and thirst under my
wes-coat, and I’ll feed and drink like
a gentleman yet!” The judge smacked
his lips in an ecstacy of enjoyment,
and dropping down before the table
which served him as a desk, seized a
pen.
“It’s good enough to think about,
Price,” admitted Mahaffy grudgingly.
“It's better to do; and if A anything
happens to me the papers I am going
to leave will tell you how its to he
done. Mqn, there’s a million of
money in sight, and we’ve got to get
it and spend it and enjoy it! None of
your swinish thrift for me, but life on
a big scale —company, and toasting,
and refined surroundings!”
“And you are going to mee+ Fen
tress in the morning?” asked Mahaffy.
“I suppose there’s no way of avoiding
that?”
“Avoiding it?” almost shouted the
judge. “For what have I been living?
I shall meet him, let the consequences
be what they may. Tonight when J
have reduced certain facts to writing
I shall join you at Belle Plain. The
strange and melancholy history of my
life I shall place in your hands for
safe keeping. In the morning [ can bo
driven back to Boggs’.”
“And you will go there without a
second?”
“If necessary; yes.”
“I declare, Price, you are hardly
fitted to be at large! Why, you act
as if you were tired of life! There’s
Yancy—there’s Cavendish!”
The judge gave him an indulgent
but superior smile.
“Two very worthy men, but I go to
Boggs’ attended by a gentleman or L
go there alone. I am aware of your
prejudices, Solomon; otherwise l
might ask this favor of you.”
Mr. Mahaffy snorted loudly and
turned to the door, for Yancy and
Cavendish were now approaching the
house, the latter with a meal sack
slung over his shoulder.
“Here, Solomon, take one of my
pistols,” urged the judge hastily
“You may need it at Belle Plaiu. Good
by, and God bless you!"
CHAPTER XXVII.
Bess Leads to Betty.
Just where he had parted from
Ware, Carrington sat his horse, his :
brows knit and his eyes turned m the
direction of the path. He was on his
way to a plantation below Birard, the
owner of which had recently import
ed a pack of bloodhounds; but this
unexpected encounter with Ware had
affected him strangely. He atilt heard
Tom’s stammering speech, he was
still seeing his ghastly face, and he
had come upon him with startling
suddenness. He had chanced to look
back over his shoulder and when he
faced about there had been the plant
er within a hundred yards of him
Presently Carrington’s glance ceas
ed to follow' the windings ot the path.
He stared down at the gray dust and
saw the trail left by Hues and his
party. For a moment he hesitated,
If the dogs were to be used with any
hope of success he had no tame to
spare, and this was the merest sus
picion, illogical conjecture, based on
nothing beyond his distrust of Ware
In the end he sprang from the saddle,
and leading his horse into the woods,
tied it to a sapling.
A hurried investigation told him
that five men had ridden in and out or
that path. Of the five, all coming
from the south, four had turned
south again, but the fifth man —Ware,
In other words —had gone north, tie
weighed the possible significance of
these facts
“I am only wasting time!" he con
fessed reluctantly, and was on the
point of turning away, when, on the
very edge of the road and just where
the dust yielded to the hard clay of
the path, his glance lighted on the
print of a small and daintily shod
foot. The throbbing of his heart
quickened curiously.
“Betty!" The word leaped from his
lips.
That small foot had left but the
one impress. There were other signs,
however, that claimed his attention,
namely, the boot-prints of Siosson
and his men; and he made the in
evitable discovery that these tracks
were all confined to the one spot
They began suddenly and as sudden
ly ceased, yet there was no mystery
about these; he had the marks of the
wheels to help him to i sure conclu
sion. A carriage had turned just
here, several men had alighted; they
had with them a child, or a woman
Either they had re-entered the car
riage and driven back, as they had
come, or they had gone toward the
river. He felt the soul within him
turn sick.
He stole along the path; the f terror
of the river was ever in his thoughts,
and the specter of Ms fear seemed to
flit before him and lure him on. Pres
ently he caught his first glimpse ot
the bayou and his legs shook under
him; but the path wound deeper still
Into what appeared to be an un
touched solitude, wound on between
the crowding tree forms, a little back
from the shore, with an intervening
tangle of vines and bushes. He
scanned this closely as he hurries
forward, scarcely conscious that ho
was searching for some trampled
space at the water’s edge; but the
verdant wail preserved its unbroken
continuity, and twenty minutes later
he came within sight of Hicks’ clear
ing and the keel boat, where it rested
against the bank.
A little farther on he found the
spot where Slosson bad launched the
skiff the night before. The keel of his
boat had cut deep,into the slippery
clay; more than this, the impress of
the small shoe was repeated here, and
just beside it was the print of a child’s
bare foot.
He no longer doubted that Betty
tnd Hannibal had been taken across
the bayou to the cabin, and he ran.
back up the path the distance of a
mile and plunged into the woods on
his right, his purpose being to pass
around the head of the expanse of
sluggish water to a point from which
he could later approach the cabin.
But the cabin proved to be better
defended than he had-foreseen; and.
as he advanced, the difficulties of the
task he had set himself became al
most insurmountable; yet sustained
as he was by his imperative need, ho
tore his way through the labyrinth of
trailing vines, or floundered across
acre-wide patches of green slime and
black mud, which at each step threat
ened to engulf him in their treacher
ous depths, until at the end of an
hour he gained the southern side of
the clearing and a firmer footing
within the shelter of the woods.
Here he paused and took stock of
his surroundings. The two or three
buildings Mr. Hicks had erected stood
midway of the clearing and were very
modest improvements adapted to their
owner's somewhat' flippant pursuit of
agriculture. While Carrington was
still staring about him, the cabin door
swung open and a woman stepped
forth. It was the girl Bess. She went
to a corner of the building and called
loudly:
“Joe! Oh. Joe!”
Carrington glanced in the direction
of the keel boat and an instant later
saw Slossou clamber over its side.
The tavern-keeper crossed to the cab
in, where he w r as met by Bess, who
placed in fits hands what seemed to
be a wooden bowl. With this> he
slouched off to one of the outbuild
ings, which he entered. Ten or fif
teen minutes slipped by, then he came
from the sited and after securing the
door, returned to the cabin. Ho was
again met by Bess, who relieved him
of the bowl; they exchanged a tew
words and Slosson walked away and
af forward iisappeared over the side
of the keel boat.
This much was ciear to the Ken
tuckian: food had been taken to some
one in the shed —to Betty and the
boy!—more likely to George.
He waited now for the night to
come, and to him the sun seemed
fixed in the heavens. At Bette Plain
Tom Ware was watching it with a
shuddering sense of the swiftness ot
its flight. But at last the tops of the
tali trees obscured it; it 3ank quickly
then aud biazed a ball of fire beyond
the Arkansas coast, while its dying
glory spread aslant the heaveus, turn
ing the flanks of the gray ciouds to
violet and purpie and gold.
With the first approach of darkness.
Carrington made his way to the shed.
Hidden in the shadow he paused to
listen, and fancied, he heard difficult
breathing from within. The door
creaked hideously on its wooden
hinges when he pushed it open, but as
it swung back the last remnant ot
the day’s light showed him some dark
object lying prone on the dirt floor.
He reached down and his hand rested
on a man's booted foot.
“George—” Carrington spoke softly,
but the man on the floor gave no sign
that he heard, and Carrington’s ques
tioning touch stealing higher he found
that George—if it were George—was
lying on his side with his arms anil
legs securely bound. Thinking ho
slept, the Kentuckian shook him gent
ly to arouse him.
“George?” he repeated, still berid
iag above him. This time an inartic
ulate murmur answered him. At the
same instant the woolly head of the
negro came under his lingers and he
discovered the reason of his silence
He was as securely gagged as he was
bound.
“Listen, George—it’s Carrington—f
am going to take ofT this gag. but
don’t speak above a whisper—they
may hear us!” And he cut the cords
that held the gag in place.
“How yo’ get here, MasT Ca’ing-
Notice.
The City Tax books are now
open for collection of taxes and
every one is requested to settle at
once, as I am instructed to an
nounce that the books wHI posi
tively close Dec. 20th.
Bailor Smith, Marshal.
12-13,3. Adv.
