Elizabeth stood still, recognizing him at once from the description of Colonel Thomas. “What do you want with me?” Black Smith grinned at her. “It ain’t no use to come here unless you got the paper.” Elizabeth backed against the tree, appalled by the savage aspect of Smith. “I have no paper that would be of any value to you.” Black Smith came closer. “You made out a paper,” he insisted. “We heard tell of it. You can’t keep things secret from the mountain people. You’ve got to get it for us.” “That was a will made for the sick old woman,” explained Elizabeth. “She was afraid that her son would take her money for a gun and she would not have decent burial. I made a will for her.” “There was other things on it!” “There was nothing else on it!” “She says there was.” “Then she doesn’t tell the truth!” Black Smith came still closer. The odor of liquor was strong on his breath. “Well, then, git the paper! No paper should be written by strangers in the settlement of the mountain people. There’s those of us can write. If papers is to be writ we can write them. An’ we can read what is on papers that has been writ. You fetch this paper an’ we’ll tell what’s on it.” Elizabeth hesitated. The old woman could hardly be made more miserable than she was. She would go and get the paper now and Herbert should be free. Black Smith was impatient with her delay. He looked at her menacingly. “Look here. Your brother ain’t gettin’ much to eat while you’re foolin’! He sets all the time an’ cries for his mammy, that’s what he does! We know his kind, an’ we have no use for such folks among the mountain people. We know what else was on that paper beside a will, an’ you know.” “I’ve told you all that was on it!” Elizabeth’s answer was almost a scream. “You and your mountain people are wicked!” The man scowled still more heavily. It seemed to Elizabeth that the time for delay was past. She was about to say, “Come on, I’ll find it for you!” Then Smith’s words halted her. “Your brother can find place in the grave with his gran’pappy, that he can. The mountain people didn’t take nothin’ from him, I can tell you!” Elizabeth’s hands pressed close upon the coarse bark of the tree against which she leaned. The pressure hurt, but she wished it to hurt. It seemed to her that physical pain would help her to clearness of thought. Once she feared that she was going to faint, then strength came back. Was she to hear even from these evil lips mockery and reproach for John Baring? Had these been his friends? Had he, perhaps, hidden here among them, had he taken refuge with them? They, too, were enemies of their country--one of them had fired upon the flag! Did John Baring die here, was he, perhaps, killed by them after some quarrel? Was it he who, in the old woman’s words, had been “shot and buried”? Was there any truth in anything they said?