“It’s the opinion of this here co’t that the whole question of assault rests on whether Bob Yancy saw the order.  Bob Yancy swears he didn’t see it, while Dave Blount swears he showed it to him.  If Bob Yancy didn’t know of the existence of the order he was clearly actin’ on the idea that Blount was stealin’ his nevvy, and he done what any one would have done under the circumstances.  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?” It was Uncle Sammy’s thin voice that cut into the silence.

“Certainly, Uncle Sammy.  This here co’t will always admire to listen to you.”

“Well, I’d like to say that I consider that Fayetteville co’t mighty officious with its orders.  This part of the county won’t take nothin’ off Fayetteville!  We don’t interfere with Fayetteville, and blamed if we’ll let Fayetteville interfere with us!” There was a murmur of approval.  Scratch Hill remembered the rifles in its hands and took comfort.

“The Fayetteville co’t air a higher co’t than this, Uncle Sammy,” explained the squire indulgently.

“I’m aweer of that,” snapped the patriarch.  “I’ve seen hit’s steeple.”

“Air you finished, Uncle Sammy?” asked the squire deferentially.

“I ’low I am.  But I ‘low that if this here case is goin’ agin Bob Yancy I’d recommend him to go home and not listen to no mo’ foolishness.”

“Mr. Yancy will oblige this co’t by setting still while I finish this case,” said the squire with dignity.  “As I’ve already p’inted out, the question of veracity presents itself strongly to the mind of this here colt.  Mr. Yancy has sworn to one thing, Mr. Blount to another.  Now the Yancys air an old family in these parts; Mr. Blount’s folks air strangers, but we don’t know nothing agin them—­”

“And we don’t know nothing in their favor,” Uncle Sammy interjected.

“Dave’s grandfather came here from Virginia about fifty years back and settled near Scratch Hill—­”

“We never knowed why he left Virginia or why he came here,” said Uncle Sammy, and knowing what local feeling was, was sure he had shot a telling bolt.

“Then, about twenty-five years ago Dave’s father pulled up and went to Fayetteville.  Nobody ever knowed why—­and I don’t remember that he ever offered any explanation—­” continued the squire.

“He didn’t—­he just left,” said Uncle Sammy.