"Yes, suh, suttenly, suh," Sam assented promptly. He came up with face beaming. Baird's joking, accompanied as it was by shining half-dollars, delighted every negro on the place. "Let's have them, then." "Yes, suh--dey sho' is about de place, suh--tho' I don't 'zactly knows where." Baird laughed. "Of course.... Take in those horses and bring me a piece of rope--I don't trust these straps." Sam came back with a hitching-strap and between them they did their best to make the bag fast. "Where does that road between the cedars come out?" Baird asked when he had mounted. "Can't I get to Westmore if I go that way?" Sam looked dubious. "Yes, suh--hit comes out to de County Road, an' from there am de road thro' de woods to Westmo'. Hit's the shortest way, but hit goes thro' de Penniman place." "I thought it did--I'll go that way." "But ole Mr. Penniman, he done built a gate by his house, suh, an' put on a padlock an' set up a sign. He don't 'low Hunt Club folks ridin' thro'." "But he wouldn't mind my going through, would he?" Sam looked grave. "I dunno, suh. He done had Mr. Garvin 'rested 'cos he rode thro'. He had him up to co't--yes, suh." "Fined him, did he?" Baird asked with interest. "Yes, _suh_! He done fin' him, an' when Mr. Garvin paid, Mr. Penniman, he refuse' to take de money. He give hit back to de co't, an' tol' 'em to give hit to the first orphan they seen, dat he don' want no Westmo' money." "He did!" "Yes, suh.... I reckon tho' 'twas mostly 'cos of Mr. Garvin bein' a Westmo'," Sam added cautiously. "Well, I'm not a Westmore--I'll chance it," Baird said decidedly. VI BAIRD RECONNOITERS When he had turned in between the cedars, Baird was glad he had come. They were set close and now, in their middle-age, stood with branches interlocked, forming a canopy dense enough to shut out the sun. The soughing gloom through which Baird rode was mournful on a March day, but he had some conception of what it must be like in summer, cool and sweet-scented and perpetually whispering. The branches drooped so low in places that they shut out the country, nooks into which one could crawl and, with a tree-trunk and big roots forming a couch, dream away an entire day. And, protected from the dew, sleep through the night as well.... What a trysting place for lovers, thought Baird. The gigantic hedge ended abruptly at the foot of what had evidently once been a lawn, but overgrown now and too much shaded by locust trees. The Penniman house showed through the trees, a steep-pitched roof broken by dormer windows. Clumps of lilacs topped the bank which partially hid the road from the house, and, as he came up under their shelter, Baird eyed his surroundings keenly. But there appeared to be no one about. The road passed within a few yards of the front porch, yet he saw no one. He could see, a short distance ahead, just beyond where the road forked, leading off to the barn, the gate and sign of which Sam had spoken.