Tom Ware gave him a glance of undisguised astonishment, while Norton regarded him with an expression of stunned and resolute gravity.  Mahaffy seemed to be undergoing a terrible moment of uncertainty.  He was divided between two purposes:  one was to seize Price by the coat tails and drag him back into the crowd; the other was to kick him, and himself fly that spot.  This singular impulse sprang from the fact that he firmly believed his friend’s appearance was sufficient to blast the boy’s chances in every quarter; nor did he think any better of himself.

Betty looked at the judge rather inquiringly.

“I am glad he has found friends,” she said slowly.  She wanted to believe that judge Slocum Price was somehow better than he looked, which should have been easy, since it was incredible that he could have been worse.

“He has indeed found friends,” said the judge with mellow unction, and swelling visibly.  These prosperous appearing people should be of use to him, God willing—­he made a sweeping gesture.  “I have assumed the responsibility of his future—­he is my care.”

Now Betty caught sight of Carrington and bowed.  Occupied with Hannibal and the judge, she had been unaware of his presence.  Carrington stepped forward.

“Have you met Mr. Norton, and my brother, Mr. Carrington?” she asked.

The two young men shook hands, and Ware improved the opportunity to inspect the new-comer.  But as his glance wandered over him, it took in more than Carrington, for it included the fine figure and swarthy face of Captain Murrell, who, with his eyes fixed on Betty, was thrusting his eager way through the crowd.

Murrell had presented himself at Belle Plain the day before.  For upward of a year, Ware had enjoyed great peace of mind as a direct result of his absence from west Tennessee, and when he thought of him at all he had invariably put a period to his meditations with, “I hope to hell he catches it wherever he is!” It had really seemed a pernicious thing to him that no one had shown sufficient public spirit to knock the captain on the head, and that this had not been done, utterly destroyed his faith in the good intentions of Providence.

More than this, Betty had spoken of the captain in no uncertain terms.  He was not to repeat that visit.  Tom must make that point clear to him.  Tom might entertain him if he liked at his office, but the doors of Belle Plain were closed against Captain Murrell; he was not to set his foot inside of them.

As Murrell approached, the hot color surged into Betty’s face.  As for Hannibal, he had gone white to the lips, and his small hand clutched hers desperately; he was remembering all the terror of that hot dawn at Slosson’s.

Murrell, with all his hardihood, realized that a too great confidence had placed him in an awkward position, for Betty turned her back on him and began an animated conversation with Carrington and Charley Norton; only Hannibal and the judge continued to regard him; the boy with a frightened, fascinated stare, the judge with a wide sweet smile.