lf?" continued Murrell.

"He was a rich planter, lived in North Carolina. My father met him when
he was in congress and got him to invest in land here. They had some
colonization scheme on foot this was upward of twenty years ago--but
nothing came of it. Quintard lost interest."

"And the land?"

"Oh, he held on to that."

"Is there much of it?"

"A hundred thousand acres," said Ware.

Murrell whistled softly under his breath.

"What's it worth?"

"A pot of money, two or three dollars an acre anyhow," answered Ware.

"Quintard has been dead two years, Tom, and back yonder in North
Carolina they told me he left nothing but the home plantation. The boy
lived there up to the time of Quintard's death, but what relation he was
to the old man no one knew. What do you suppose Fentress wants with him?
He offered me five thousand dollars if I'd bring him West; and he still
wants him, only he's lying low now to see what comes of the two old
sots--he don't want to move in the dark. Offhand, Tom, I'd say that by
getting hold of the boy Fentress expects to get hold of the Quintard
land."

"That's likely," said Ware, then struck by a sudden idea, he added, "Are
you going to take all the risks and let him pocket the cash? If it's the
land he's after, the stake's big enough to divide."

"He can have the whole thing and welcome, I'm playing for a bigger
stake." His friend stared at him in astonishment. "I tell you, Tom, I'm
bent on getting even with the world! No silver spoon came in the way of
my mouth when I was a youngster; my father was too honest--and I think
the less of him for it!"

Mr. Ware seemed on the whole edified by the captain's unorthodox point
of view.

"My mother was the true grit though; she came of mountain stock, and
taught us children to steal by the time we could think! Whatever we
stole, she hid, and dared my father to touch us. I remember the first
thing of account was when I was ten years old. A Dutch peddler came to
our cabin one winter night and begged us to take him in. Of course, he
opened his pack before he left, and almost under his nose I got away
with a bolt of linen. The old man and woman fought about it, but if the
peddler discovered his loss he had the sense not to come back and tell
of it! When I was seventeen I left home with three good horses I'd
picked up; they brought me more money than I'd ever seen before and I
got my first taste of life--that was in Nashville where I made some