“I spoke to one of them and told him that we had come to stay, and the next evening I found a scrawled note directing us to leave. It was even decorated with skull and cross-bones!” “There’s only one of ’em can write and he learned in the penitentiary, that’s Sheldon, a tall man with a drooping mustache. Was it he?” “He’s the one I talked to.” “They’re a set of miserable rascals!” Colonel Thomas rose and began to walk up and down. “They’ve an interesting origin, but that’s all about ’em that is interesting. They’re descendants of the first squatters. The Colonial Government had a great deal of trouble with them, and since then they’ve been against everything, against the Government, against education, against religion, against law. During the war they were against the North, and the draft couldn’t reach into the mountains far enough to catch ’em. There’s this Sheldon who served a term for arson--I sent him up myself when I was judge--and a heavy, short, black-bearded man named Black Smith--don’t think it’s ‘blacksmith’; there’s nothing so industrious about ’em! They all have pleasant descriptive titles, like ‘Black’ and ‘Bud’ and ‘Bully.’ But there’s one institution they fear and that’s the constabulary.” “Who are they?” “They are the State police. If you are annoyed, let me know and there’ll be a settlement. The law will stand behind you there.” Elizabeth rose once more. “Thank you.” Colonel Thomas assured her again vehemently that he and the law and the constabulary would stand by her. “You wouldn’t hesitate to ask me?” It was evidently a relief to the old gentleman to be able to offer to do something for her. “No,” promised Elizabeth, “I shouldn’t hesitate.” Colonel Thomas watched her until she turned at the top of the hill. “Now she has a row to hoe!” said he aloud. Chapter III “I WILL NOT BELIEVE IT!” Elizabeth had a great deal of time to think on the way home. Old Joe, who in three days had traveled about fifty miles, could not be encouraged beyond a slow walk. But she did not think very connectedly. Mind and soul were weary; her troubles presented themselves rather as a dull, undefined pain than as a sharp anxiety. Things could wait, she said to herself. It would be necessary, of course, for her to tell Herbert, and she trembled for the effect upon him. She had feared for weeks that his very nature had been affected by his illness and that he would remain a sort of dependent child instead of becoming a man. But what she had heard to-day threw another light on his condition. Could it be that it was an inherited weakness, the result of the shame which their mother must have felt? Their mother had been a woman of strong will, but might it not have been that her grief and anxiety had affected Herbert? She must have felt her father’s act to be a disgrace--it could not be otherwise. It was from that poor mother that Elizabeth had learned to love her country!