Aunt Nancy had picked up Little Buck, but that young man had the limitations of his virtues. Being silent by nature he had not so much to keep him awake as the loquacious Beezy, and by the time his father on the other side of the hearth had dropped asleep and nearly fallen into the fire a couple of times, been sternly admonished by the grandmother, and gone to fling himself face down upon a bed in the corner, Little Buck was sounder asleep than his sister. The old woman got up and carried her grandson to the bed, laid him down upon it and, taking basin and towel, proceeded to wipe the dusty small feet before she took off his minimum of clothing and pushed him in between the sheets. "Minds me of a foot-washin' at Little Shiloh," she ruminated. "Here's me jest like the preacher and here's Little Buck gettin' all the sins of the day washed off at once." She completed her task, and was taking Beezy from Creed's arms to lay her beside her brother on the bed, when a tap--tap--tapping, apparently upon the window shutter, brought them both to their feet, staring at each other with pale faces. "What's that?" breathed Nancy. "Hush--hit'll come again. Don't you answer for your life, Creed. Ef anybody speaks, let it be me." Again the measured rap--rap--rap! "You let my Nick in," murmured Beezy sleepily, and Creed laughed out in sudden relief. It was the wooden-legged rooster, coming across the little side porch and making his plea for admission as he stepped. Something in the incident brought the situation of affairs home to Creed Bonbright as it had not been before. "Aunt Nancy," he said resolutely, "I'm going to leave right now and walk down to the settlement. I've got no business to be here putting you and the children in danger. It's a case of fool pride. They told me down at Hepzibah that I'd be run out of the Turkey Tracks inside of three months if I tried to set up a justice's office here. I felt sort of ashamed to go back and face them and own up that they were right--that I had been run out. I ought to have been too much of a man to feel that way. It makes no difference what they say--the only thing that counts is that I have failed." "You let me catch you openin' that do' or steppin' yo' foot on the road to-night!" snorted Nancy belligerently. "Why, you fool boy, don't you know all the roads has been guarded by the Turrentines ever since they fell out with ye? They 'lowed ye would run of course, and they aimed to layway ye as ye went. I could have told 'em ye wasn't the runnin' kind; but thar, what do they know about----" She broke off suddenly, her mouth open, and stood staring with fear-dilated eyes at Creed. "Hello!" came the hail from outside. Nancy let the baby slip from her arms to the floor, and the little thing stood whimpering and rubbing her eyes, clinging to her grandmother's skirts. "Hush--hush!" cautioned the old woman, barely above her breath.