More than this, Betty had spoken of the captain in no uncertain
terms. He was not to repeat that visit. Tom must make that
point clear to him. Tom might entertain him if he liked at his
office, but the doors of Belle Plain were closed against Captain
Murrell; he was not to set his foot inside of them.
As Murrell approached, the hot color surged into Betty's face.
As for Hannibal, he had gone white to the lips, and his small
hand clutched hers desperately; he was remembering all the terror
of that hot dawn at Slosson's.
Murrell, with all his hardihood, realized that a too great
confidence had placed him in an awkward position, for Betty
turned her back on him and began an animated conversation with
Carrington and Charley Norton; only Hannibal and the judge
continued to regard him; the boy with a frightened, fascinated
stare, the judge with a wide sweet smile.
Hicks, the Belle Plain overseer, pushed his way to Murrell's
side.
"Here, John Murrell, ain't you going to show us a trick or two?"
he inquired.
Murrell turned quickly with a sense of relief.
"If you can spare me your rifle," he said, but his face wore a
bleak look. Glancing at Betty, he took up his station with the
other contestants, whereupon two or three young planters silently
withdrew from the firing-line.
"Don't you think you've seen about enough, Bet?" demanded Tom.
"You don't care for the shooting, do you ?"
"That's the very thing I do care for; I think I'd rather see that
than the horse-racing," said Betty perversely.
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