“Are you sure you have come to the end of that, John?” inquired Fentress, still smiling.

“I don’t propose to debate this further,” rejoined Murrell haughtily.  Instantly the colonel’s jaw became rigid.  The masterful airs of this cutthroat out of the hills irked him beyond measure.  Murrell turned to Ware.

“How soon can you get away from here, Tom?” he asked abruptly.

“By God, I can’t go too soon!” cried the planter, staggering to his feet.  He gave Fentress a hopeless beaten look.  “You’re my witness that first and last I’ve no part in this!” he added.

The colonel merely shrugged his shoulders.  Murrell reached out a detaining hand and rested it on Ware’s arm.

“Keep your wits about you, Tom, and within a week people will have forgotten all about Norton and your sister.  I am going to give them something else to worry over.”

Ware went from the cabin, and as the door swung shut Fentress faced Murrell across the table.

“I’ve gone as far with you in this affair as I can go; after all, as you say, it is a private matter.  You reap the benefits—­you and Tom between you—­I shall give you a wide berth until you come to your senses.  Frankly, if you think that in this late day in the world you can carry off an unwilling girl, your judgment is faulty.”

“Hold on, Colonel—­how do you know she is going to prove unwilling?” objected Murrell, grinning.

Fentress gave him a glance of undisguised contempt and rose from his seat.

“I admit your past successes, John—­that is, I take your word for them—­but Miss Malroy is a lady.”

“I have heard enough!” said Murrell angrily.

“So have I, John,” retorted the colonel in a tone that was unvexed but final, “and I shall count it a favor if you will never refer to her in my hearing.”  He moved in the direction of the door.

“Oh, you and I are not going to lose our tempers over this!” began Murrell.  “Come, sit down again, Colonel!” he concluded with great good nature.

“We shall never agree, John—­you have one idea and I another.”

“We’ll let the whole matter drop out of our talk.  Look here, how about the boy—­are you ready for him if I can get my hands on him?”

Fentress considered.  From the facts he had gathered he knew that the man who called himself Judge Price must soon run his course in Raleigh, and then as inevitably push out for fresh fields.  Any morning might find him gone and the boy with him.

“I can’t take him to my place as I had intended doing; under the circumstances that is out of the question,” he said at length.

“Of course; but I’ll send him either up or down the river and place him in safe keeping where you can get him any time you want.”

“This must be done without violence, John!” stipulated Fentress.

“Certainly, I understand that perfectly well.  It wouldn’t suit your schemes to have that brace of old sots handled by the Clan.  Which shall it be—­up or down river?”