will all be yours
as soon as I can establish your identity."

"Will Uncle Bob be rich too?" inquired Hannibal.

"Certainly. How can he be poor when we possess wealth?" answered the
judge.

"You reckon he will always live with us, don't you, grandfather?"

"I would not have it otherwise. I admire Mr. Yancy--he is simple and
direct, and fit for any company under heaven except that of fools. His
treatment of you has placed me under everlasting obligations; he shall
share what we have. My one bitter, unavailing regret is that Solomon
Mahaffy will not be here to partake of our altered fortunes." And the
judge sighed deeply.

"Uncle Bob told me Mr. Mahaffy got hurt in a duel, grandfather?" said
Hannibal.

"He was as inexperienced as a child in the use of firearms, and he had
to deal with scoundrels who had neither mercy nor generous feeling--but
his courage was magnificent."

Presently Hannibal was deep in his account of those adventures he had
shared with Miss Betty.

"And Miss Malroy--where is she now?" asked the judge, in the first pause
of the boy's narrative.

"She's at Mr. Bowen's house. Mr. Carrington and Mr. Cavendish are
here too. Mrs. Cavendish stayed down yonder at the Bates' plantation.
Grandfather, it were Captain Murrell who had me stole--do you reckon he
was going to take me back to Mr. Bladen?"

"I will see Miss Malroy in the morning. We must combine--our interests
are identical. There should be hemp in this for more than one scoundrel!
I can see now how criminal my disinclination to push myself to the front
has been!" said the judge, with conviction. "Never again will I shrink
from what I know to be a public duty."

A little later they went down-stairs, where the judge had Yancy make up
a bed for himself and Hannibal on the floor. He would watch alone beside
Mahaffy, he was certain this would have been the dead man's wish; then
he said good night and mounted heavily to the floor above to resume his
vigil and his musings.

Just at daybreak Yancy was roused by the pressure of a hand on his
shoulder, and opening his eyes saw that the judge was bending over him.

"Dress!" he said briefly. "There's every prospect of trouble--get your
rifle and come with me!"

Yancy noted that this prospect of trouble seemed to afford the judge
a pleasurable sensation; indeed, he had quite lost his former air of
somber and suppressed melancholy.

"I let you sleep, thinking you needed the rest," the judge went o