"I don't know how long it were, but until Uncle Bob carried me
away after the old general died."
The judge slipped a hand under the child's chin and tilted his
face back so that he might look into it. For a long moment he
studied closely those small features, then with a shake of the
head he handed the rifle to Carrington, and without a word strode
forward. Carrington had been regarding Hannibal with a quickened
interest.
"Hello!" he said, as the judge moved off. "You're the boy I saw
at Scratch Hill!"
Hannibal gave him a frightened glance, and edged to Mr. Mahaffy's
side, but did not answer him.
"What's become of Bob Yancy?" Carrington went on. He looked from
Mahaffy to the judge; externally neither of these gentlemen was
calculated to inspire confidence. Mahaffy, keenly alive to this
fact, returned Carrington's glance with a fixed and hostile
stare. "Come--" said Carrington good-naturedly, "you surely
remember me?"
"Yes, sir; I reckon I do--"
"Can't you tell me about Mr. Yancy?"
"No, sir; I don't know exactly where he is--"
"But how did you get here?" persisted Carrington.
Suddenly Mahaffy turned on him.
"Don't you see he's with us?" he said truculently.
"Well, my dear sir, I certainly intended no offense!" rejoined
Carrington rather hotly.
Mahaffy was plainly disturbed, the debased currency of his
affection was in circulation where Hannibal was concerned, and he
eyed the river-man askance. He was prepared to give him the lie
should he set up any claim to the boy.
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