"Son, we ain't goin' into town. I'm going, but you needn't. You can ride back a piece an' wait faw me; aw faw further news which'll show you what to do. On'y don't in any case come into town. This ain't yo' fight, son, an' you no need to get mixed in with it. You hear, son?" "I"--the lad tried twice before he could speak--"I want to go with you." "Why, no, son, you no need to go. You ain't fitt'n' to go. Yo' too young. You a-trembling now fum head to foot. Ain't you got a chill?" "N-no, sir." The boy shivered visibly. "I've got a pain in my side, but it don't--don't hurt. I want to go with you." "But, son, there's goin' to be fight'n'. I'm goin' to try to p'vent it, but I shan't be able to. Why, if you was to get hurt, who'd eveh tell yo' po' deah mother? I couldn't. I jest couldn't! You betteh go 'long home, son." "I c-c-can't do it, father." "Why, air you that sick, son?" "No, sir, but I don't feel well enough to go home--Father--I--I--t-t-told--I told--an awful lie, one time, about you, and----" "Why, son!" "Yes, sir. I've been tryin' for seven years to--k--own up, and----" "Sev--O Law, son, I don't believe you eveh done it at all. You neveh so much as told a fib in yo' life. You jest imagine you done it." "Yes, I have father, often. I can't explain now, but please lemme go with you." "Why, son, I jest can't. Lawd knows I would if I could." "Yes, you can, father, I won't be in the way. And I won't be af-raid. You don't think I would eveh be a-scared of a nigger, do you? But if the niggers should kill you, and me not there, I wouldn't ever be any account no more! I haven't ever been any yet, but I will be, father, if you'll----" Three pistol shots came from the town, and two townward-bound horsemen broke their trot and passed at a gallop. "Come on, Judge," laughed one. "I declare, son, I don't know what _toe_ do. You betteh go 'long back." "Oh, father, don't send me back! Lemme go 'long with you. Please don't send me back! I couldn't go. I'd just haf to turn round again an' follow you. Lemme go with you, father. I want to go 'long with you. Oh--thank you, sir!" They trotted down into the town. "D' you reckon C'nelius 'll be there, father?--I--hope he will." The pallor was gone. As the turnpike became a tree-shaded street, they passed briskly by its old-fashioned houses set deep in grove gardens. Two or three weedy lanes at right and left showed the poor cabins of the town's darker life shut and silent. But presently, "Father, look there!" The Judge and his son turned quickly to a turfy bank where a ragged negro lay at the base of a large tree. He was moaning, rocking his head, and holding a hand against his side. His rags were drenched with blood. The white eyes rolled up to the face of the Judge, as he tossed his bridle to his son. "Wateh," whispered the big lips, "wateh." John threw his father's bridle back, galloped through a gate, and came with a gourd full.