.

"Fetch him along in here," said Ware briefly, without lifting his
bloodshot eyes.

Brought into his presence the white fellow delivered a penciled note
which proved to be from Murrell, and then on Ware's invitation partook
of whisky. When he was gone, the planter ordered his horse, and while he
waited for it to be brought up from the stables, reread Murrell's
note. The expression of his unprepossessing features indicated what
was passing in his mind, his mood was one of sullen rebellion. He felt
Murrell was bent on committing him to an aggregate of crime he
would never have considered possible, and all for love of a girl--a
pink-cheeked, white-faced chit of a girl--disgust boiled up within him,
rage choked him; this was the rotten spot in Murrell's make-up, the man
was mad-stark mad!

As Ware rode away from Belle Plain he cursed him under his breath with
vindictive thoroughness. His own inclination toward evil was never very
robust; he could have connived and schemed over a long period of
years to despoil Betty of her property, he would have counted this a
legitimate field for enterprise; but murder and abduction was quite
another thing. He would wash his hands of all further connection with
Murrell, he had other things to lose besides Belle Plain, and the
present would be as good a time as any to let the outlaw know he could
be coerced and bullied no longer. But he had a saving recollection
of the way in which Murrell dealt with what he counted treachery; an
unguarded word, and he would not dare to travel those roads even at
broad noon-day, while to pass before a lighted window at night would be
to invite death; nowhere would he be safe.

Three miles from Belle Plain he entered a bridle path that led toward
the river; he was now traversing a part of the Quintard tract. Two miles
from the point where he had quitted the main road he came out upon the
shores of a wide bayou. Looking across this he saw at a distance of half
a mile what seemed to be a clearing of considerable extent, it was the
first sign of human occupation he had seen since leaving Belle Plain.

An impenetrable swamp defended the head of the bayou which he skirted.
Doubling back as though he were going to retrace his steps to Belle
Plain, finally he gained a position opposite the clearing which still
showed remotely across the wide reach of sluggish water. Here he
dismounted and tied his horse, then as one tolerably familiar with the
locality and