ase proposal. He declared that if Bill was
afraid of him he would go alone to the county-seat and give himself up
to the sheriff if they would set him free. Bill was a little assured by
his prisoner's evident sincerity.

Another consultation brought them to the agreement that the best they
could do, in the absence of handcuffs, was to hitch up to Isom's buggy
and make the prisoner drive. With hands employed on the lines, he could
be watched narrowly by Bill who was to take Sol's old navy six along in
his mighty hand.

Mrs. Newbolt viewed the officious constable's preparations for the
journey with many expressions of anger and disdain.

"Just look at that old fool, Bill Frost, with that revolver!" said she,
turning to the neighbors, who stood silently watching. "Just as if Joe
would hurt anybody, or try to run away!"

Sympathy seemed to be lacking in the crowd. Everybody was against Joe,
that was attested by the glum faces and silence which met her on every
hand. She was amazed at their stupidity. There they stood, people who
had seen Joe grow up, people who knew that a Newbolt would give his last
cent and go hungry to meet an obligation; that he would wear rags to pay
his debts, as Peter had done, as Joe was doing after him; that he would
work and strive night and day to keep fair his honorable name, and to
preserve the honest record of the family clear and clean.

They all knew that, and they knew that a Newbolt never lied, but they
hunched their backs and turned away their heads as if they thought a
body was going to hit them when she spoke. It disgusted her; she felt
like she could turn loose on some of them with their own records, which
she had from a generation back.

She approached the buggy as Joe took up the lines and prepared to drive
out of the gate.

"I don't see why they think you done it, son, it's so unreasonable and
unneighborly of them," said she.

"Neighborly!" said Joe, with sudden bitterness in his young voice. "What
am I to them but 'the pore folks' boy'? They didn't believe me, Mother,
but when I get a chance to stand up before Judge Maxwell over at
Shelbyville, I'll be talking to a gentleman. A gentleman will
understand."

That sounded like his father, she thought. It moved her with a feeling
of the pride which she had reflected feebly for so many years.

"I hope so, son," said she. "If you're not back in a day or two, I'll be
over to Shelbyville."

"Drive on, drive on!" ordered Bill,