Balaam, who,
forgetting his lumbago, had hurried forth to greet him.
"But why did you fetch your gun, Uncle Sammy?" asked the
magistrate, laughing.
"Hit were to be on the safe side, Squire. Where air them
Blounts?"
"Them Blounts don't need to bother you none. There air only
Dave, and he can't more than half see out of one eye to-day."
The squire's court held its infrequent sittings in the best room
of the Balaam homestead, a double cabin of hewn logs. Here
Scratch Hill was gratified with a view of Mr. Blount's battered
visage, and it was conceded that his condition reflected
creditably on Yancy's physical prowess and was of a character
fully to sustain that gentleman's reputation; for while he was
notoriously slow to begin a fight, he was reputed to be even more
reluctant to leave off once he had become involved in one.
"What's all this here fuss between you and Bob Yancy?" demanded
the squire when he had administered the oath to Blount. Mr.
Blount's statement was brief and very much to the point. He had
been hired by Mr. Bladen, of Fayetteville, to go to Scratch Hill
and get the boy who had been temporarily placed in Yancy's
custody at the time of General Quintard's death.
"Stop just there!" cried the magistrate, leveling a pudgy finger
at Blount. "This here co't is already cognizant of certain facts
bearing on that p'int. The boy was left with Bob Yancy mainly
because nobody else would take him. Them's the facts.
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