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Kester, Vaughan, 1869-1911

"The Prodigal Judge"


"What do you expect to do for yourself?" he demanded. The other
laughed shortly.
"Captain, I'm going to get rich while I have the chance. Ain't
that what we are all after?"
"How?" inquired Murrell quietly. Hues shifted his seat.
"I'm sensitive about calling things by their short names;" he
gave way to easy laughter; "but if you've got anything special
you're saving for yourself, I'm free to say I'd rather take
chances with you than with another," he finished carelessly.
"Hues, you must start back across Tennessee. Make it Sunday at
midnight--that's three days off." Unconsciously his voice sank
to a whisper.
"Sunday at midnight," repeated Hues slowly.
"When you have passed the word into middle Tennessee, turn south
and make the best of your way to New Orleans. Don't stop for
anything--push through as fast as you can. You'll find me there.
I've a notion you and I will quit the country together."
"Quit the country! Why, Captain, who's talking of quitting the
country?"
"You speak as though you were fool enough to think the niggers
would accomplish something!" said Murrell coolly. "There will be
confusion at first, but there are enough white men in the
southwest to handle a heap better organized insurrection than
we'll be able to set going. Our fellows will have to use their
heads as well as their hands or they are likely to help the
nigger swallow his medicine. I look for nothing else than
considerable of a shake-up along the Mississippi .


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