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Kester, Vaughan, 1869-1911

"The Prodigal Judge"


"I was with him when he was taken--it was Hues the man he trusted
more than any other!" Ware gave the overseer a ghastly grin and
was silent, but in that silence he heard the drumming of his own
heart. He went on. "I tell you to save himself John Murrell
will implicate the rest of us; we've got to get him free, and
then, by hell--we ought to knock him in the head; he isn't fit to
live!"
"The jail ain't built that'll hold him!!" muttered Hicks.
"Of course, he can't be held," agreed Ware. "And 'he'll never be
brought to trial; no lawyer will dare appear against him, no jury
will dare find him guilty; but there's Hues, what about him?" He
paused. The two men looked at each other for a long moment.
"Where did they carry the captain?" inquired Hicks.
"I don't know."
"It looks like the Clan was in a hell-fired hole--but shucks!
What will be easier than to fix Hues?--and while they're fixing
folks they'd better not overlook that old fellow Price. He's got
some notion about Fentress and the boy." Mr. Hicks did not
consider it necessary to explain that he was himself largely
responsible for this.
"How do you know that?" demanded Ware.
"He as good as said so." Hicks looked uneasily at the planter.
He knew himself to be compromised. The stranger named Cavendish
had forced an admission from him that Murrell would not condone
if it came to his knowledge. He had also acquired a very proper
and wholesome fear of Judge Slocum Price.


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