much overwhelmed by the judge's manner
as by his words.

"His Uncle Bob shall keep his place in my grandson's life! We'll watch
him grow into manhood together." The judge was visibly affected. A smile
of deep content parted Mr. Yancy's lips as his muscular fingers closed
about the judge's hand with crushing force.

"Whoop!" cried Cavendish, delighted at this recognition of Yancy's love
for the boy, and he gleefully smote the austere Mahaffy on the shoulder.
But Mahaffy was dumb in the presence of the decencies, he quite lacked
an interpreter. The judge looked back at the house.

"Mine!" he muttered. "The clothes he stands in, the food he eats--mine!
Mine!"

CHAPTER XXX. THE BUBBLE BURSTS

At about the same hour that the judge was hurling threats and insults at
Colonel Fentress, three men were waiting ten miles away at the head
of the bayou which served to isolate Hicks' cabin. Now no one of these
three had ever heard of Judge Slocum Price; the breath of his fame had
never blown, however gently, in their direction, yet they were preparing
to thrust opportunity upon him. To this end they were lounging about the
opening in the woods where the horses belonging to Ware and Murrell were
tied.

At length the dip of oars became audible in the silence and one of
the trio stole down the path, a matter of fifty yards, to a point that
overlooked the bayou. He was gone but a moment.

"It's Murrell all right!" he said in an eager whisper. "Him and another
fellow--the Hicks girl is rowing them." He glanced from one to the other
of his companions, who seemed to take firmer hold of themselves under
his eye. "It'll be all right," he protested lightly. "He's as good
as ours. Wait till I give you the word." And he led the way into an
adjacent thicket.

Meantime Ware and Murrell had landed and were coming along the path, the
outlaw a step or two in advance of his friend. They reached the horses
and were untying them when the thicket suddenly disgorged the three men;
each held a cocked pistol; two of these pistols covered Murrell and the
third was leveled at Ware.

"Hues!" cried Murrell in astonishment, for the man confronting him was
the Clan's messenger who should have been speeding across the state.

"Toss up your hands, Murrell," said Hues quietly.

One of the other men spoke.

"You are under arrest!"

"Arrest!"

"You are wanted for nigger-stealing," said the man. Still Murrell did
not seem to comprehend. He l