at him, lay Sheriff, the bloodhound, panting.

She told him how hard she had tried to get him off; how hard his friends
had tried. They had been to see the solicitor, the sheriff, and finally
the governor himself. "They were all nice to me, Tom," she declared;
"but they say they can't do nothin'. The governor talked to me a long
time in his office. He asked all about us--where we lived, how many
children we had, how it all happened. But he says he was elected to see
the laws carried out, an' can't interfere.

"We done everything we could," she went on, "even the folks that live
'round here an' have seen you workin', po' man, with the gang--even they
tried to help. Squire Kirby an' Mr. Earle, him that lives in that big
white house they call Freedom Hill, up the road whar you been workin',
they headed the petition. They are the richest folks 'round here. They
heered the trial, Tom. They know you was set upon in that low-down
place. Mr. Earle, he went to the capitol with me to see the governor.
Him and the governor are ol' friends. Mr. Earle, he bought my railroad
ticket and paid my board in Greenville. He talked to the governor for
over an hour.... But"--she shook her head--"it never done no good.

"Here's what folks say, though," she whispered quickly. "If you got away
back into Tennessee the law wouldn't follow you. Mr. Earle, he told me
that, just yistiddy, Tom. Squire Kirby he says the same thing. Tom, the
sheriff hisself as good as told me. The governor wouldn't requisition
you, they all's good as said. He wouldn't, either, Tom. I know he
wouldn't."

Then her eyes widened with horror. "Oh, I wasn't goin' to tell you
that!" she gasped. "Don't try to get away. That man over yonder, he'll
kill you, Tom. Folks said he would--said he had killed two. I know he
will, since I've seen him. He's awful, awful!"

She went on protesting, in terror that he would try to do the very thing
she had suggested. She told him about the bloodhound. The newspaper men
said he never lost a trail--that nobody who stayed on the ground had
ever got away from him.

"They know ever'thing, these newspaper men," she went on. "They advised
me right. Tom, two years ain't long. We waited longer than that to get
married. Remember, Tom? We ain't old yet....

"Poor old gal," said Tom.

It was the sight of a dilapidated and deserted blacksmith shop near the
road they were widening, and of some rusted fragments of tools scattered
about here and the