As Nan listened, he was telling how his "pa" and "ma" had married in South Carolina, and had subsequently moved to Jasper County in Georgia. In coming away (according to Mr. Sanders's version), they had fetched a half dozen hogs too many, and maybe a cow or two that didn't belong to them. By-and-by the owners of the stock appeared in the neighbourhood where Mr. Sanders, Sr., had settled, found the missing property, and carried him away with them. They had, or claimed to have, a warrant, and they hustled the pioneer off to South Carolina, and put him in jail. "Now, Sally Hart was Nancy's own gal," said Mr. Sanders, pausing to take a nip from a bottle he carried in his pocket. "She was a chip off'n the old block ef they ever was a block that had a chip. So Sally (that was ma) she went polin' off to Sou' Ca'liny. The night she got to whar she was agwine, she tore a hole in the side of the jail that you could 'a' driv a buggy through. Then she took poor pa by one ear, an' fetched him home. An' that ain't all. Arter she got him home, she took a rawhide an' liter'ly wore pa out. She said arterwards that she didn't larrup him for fetchin' the stock off, but for layin' up there in jail an' lettin' his crap spile. Well, that frailin' made a good Christian of pa. He j'ined the church, an' would 'a' been a preacher, but ma wouldn't let him. She allowed they'd be too much gaddin' about, an' maybe a little too much honeyin' up wi' the sisterin'. 'No,' says she, 'ef you want to do good prayin', pray whilst you're ploughin'. I'll look arter the hoein' myself,' says she." Mr. Sanders was not regarded as a dangerous man in his cups, but on one well-remembered occasion he had fired into a crowd of men who were inclined to be too familiar, and since that day he had been given a wide berth when he took a seat on the court-house steps and began to recite his family history. While Nan stood there, Mr. Sanders drew a pistol from his pocket, and, smiling blandly, began to flourish it around. As he did so, Gabriel Tolliver sprang into the street and ran rapidly toward him. Some one in the crowd uttered a cry of warning. Seized by some blind impulse Nan ran after Gabriel. Francis Bethune caught her arm as she ran by him, but she wrenched herself from his grasp, and ran faster than ever. "Stand back there!" exclaimed Mr. Sanders in an angry voice, raising his pistol. For one brief moment, the spectators thought that Gabriel was doomed, for he went on without wavering. But he was really in no danger. Mr. Sanders had mistaken him for some of the young men who had been taunting him as they stood at a safe distance. But when he saw who it was, he replaced the pistol in his pocket, remarking, "You ought to hang out your sign, Gabe. Ef I hadn't 'a' had on my furseein' specks, I'm afear'd I'd a plugged you."