“Hullo, there!” The judge scrambled to his feet, and taking up the candle, stepped, or rather staggered, into the yard.  Mahaffv followed him.

“What’s wanted?” asked the judge, as he lurched up to horse and rider, holding his candle aloft.  The light showed a tail fellow mounted on a handsome bay horse.  It was Murrell.

“Is there an inn hereabouts?” he asked.

“You’ll find one down the road a ways,” said Mahaffy.  The judge said nothing.  He was staring up at Murrell with drunken gravity.

“Have either of you gentlemen seen a boy go through here to-day?  A boy about ten years old?” Murrell glanced from one to the other.  Mr. Mahaffy’s thin lips twisted themselves into a sarcastic smile.  He turned to the judge, who spoke up quickly.

“Did he carry a bundle and rifle?” he asked.  Murrell gave eager assent.

“Well,” said the judge, “he stopped here along about four o’clock and asked his way to the nearest river landing.”  Murrell gathered up his reins, and then that fixed stare of the judge’s seemed to arrest his attention.

“You’ll know me again,” he observed.

“Anywhere,” said the judge.

“I hope that’s a satisfaction to you,” said Murrell.

“It ain’t—­none whatever,” answered the judge promptly.  “For I don’t value you—­I don’t value you that much!” and he snapped his fingers to illustrate his meaning.

CHAPTER XI

The orator Or the day

“Hanibal” the judge’s voice and manner were rather stern.  “Hannibal, a man rode by here last night on a big bay horse.  He said he was looking for a boy about ten years old—­a boy with a bundle and rifle.”  There was an awful pause.  Hannibal’s heart stood still for a brief instant, then it began to beat with terrific thumps against his ribs.  “Who was that man, Hannibal?”

“I—­please I don’t know—­” gasped the child.

“Hannibal, who was that man?” repeated the judge.

“It were Captain Murrell.”  The judge regarded him with a look of great steadiness.  He saw his small face go white, he saw the look of abject terror in his eyes.  The judge raised his fist and brought it down with a great crash on the table, so that the breakfast dishes leaped and rattled.  “We don’t know any boy ten years old with a rifle and bundle!” he said.

“Please—­you won’t let him take me away, judge I want to stop with you!” cried Hannibal.  He slipped from his chair, and passing about the table, siezed the judge by the hand.  The judge was visibly affected.

“No!” he roared, with a great oath.  “He shan’t have you—­I’ll see him in the farthest corner of hell first!  Is he kin to you?”

“No,” said Hannibal.

“Took you to raise, did he—­and abused you—­infernal hypocrite!” cried the judge with righteous wrath.

“He tried to get me away from my Uncle Bob.  He’s been following us since we crossed the mountains.”