“Hit wouldn’t have happened if there’d been a man on the Hill, but there was nothing but a passel of women about the place.  I heard the boys crying when Dave Blount lifted your nevvy into the buggy,” said Uncle Sammy; “all I could do was to cuss him across two fields.  I hope you blow his hide full of holes!” for a rifle had been placed in Yancy’s hands.

“Thank you-all kindly,” said Yancy, and turning away he struck off through the pine woods.  A brisk walk of twenty minutes brought him to the Ox Road forks, as it was called, where he could plainly distinguish the wheel and hoof marks left by the buggy and team as it went to Scratch Hill, but there was only the single track.

This important point being settled, sense of sweet peace stole in upon Yancy’s spirit.  He stood his rifle against a tree, lit his pipe with flint and steel, and rested comfortably by the wayside.  He had not long to wait, for presently the buggy hove in sight; whereupon he coolly knocked the ashes from his pipe, pocketed it, and prepared for action.  As the buggy came nearer he recognized his ancient enemy in the person of the man who sat at Hannibal’s side, and stepping nimbly into the road seized the horses by their bits.  At sight of him Hannibal shrieked his name in an ecstasy of delight.

“Uncle Bob—­Uncle Bob—­” he, cried.

“Yes, it’s Uncle Bob.  You can light down, Nevvy.  I reckon you’ve rid far enough,” said Yancy pleasantly.

“Leggo them horses!” said Mr. Blount, recovering somewhat from the effect of Yancy’s sudden appearance.

“Light down, Nevvy,” said Yancy, still pleasantly.  Blount turned to the boy as if to interfere.  “Don’t you put the weight of yo’ finger on the boy, Blount!” warned Yancy.  “Light down, Hannibal!”

Hannibal instantly availed himself of the invitation.  At the same moment Blount struck at Yancy with his whip and his horses reared wildly, thinking the blow meant for them.  Seeing that the boy had reached the ground in safety, Yancy relaxed his hold on the team, which instantly plunged forward.  Then as the buggy swept past him he made a dexterous grab at Blount and dragged him out over the wheels into the road, where, for the second time in his life, he proceeded to fetch Mr. Blount a smack in the jaw.  This he followed up with other smacks variously distributed about his countenance.

“You’ll sweat for this, Bob Yancy!” cried Blount, as he vainly sought to fend off the blows.

“I’m sweating now—­scandalous,” said Mr. Yancy, taking his unhurried satisfaction of the other.  Then with a final skilful kick he sent Mr. Blount sprawling.  “Don’t let me catch you around these diggings again, Dave Blount, or I swear to God I’ll be the death of you!”

Hannibal rode home through the pine woods in triumph on his Uncle Bob’s mighty shoulders.

“Did you get yo’ ground-hog, Nevvy?” inquired Mr. Yancy presently when they had temporarily exhausted the excitement of Hannibal’s capture and recovery.