Old Lim was at the door of his "stockade," oiling the lock. "Devilish thing don't work well," he said. "A padlock is generally the best lock or the worst; you never can tell which. If I could jest git a drap of the grease into the key-hole I'd soon fix it. But it won't go in, you see. By jings, the devil has his own way about half the time, and his influence is mighty powerful the other half. Now, we're gittin' at it. I reckon we'd better go on to breakfast, though. I almost forgot that you had to go to your school. Why, man, what the deuce is the matter with you this mornin'?" He dropped the chain to which the lock was fastened and looked steadily at me. "What's gone wrong, man?" "I'm not going to school to-day," I answered, endeavoring to be calm. "What's the matter? House burnt down again?" "Worse than that, Mr. Jucklin. Alf----" "What about him?" he broke in, nervously grabbing the chain. "Did you know that he was in love with Millie Lundsford?" I asked, now determined to be calm. "Well, what of it? Young folks are in and out of love with each other mighty nigh every day in this neighborhood. Is that Susan callin' me? Be there in a minute!" he shouted. "Hasn't had a row with the old General, has he?" "No, but with Dan Stuart. They quarreled last night and fought and Dan was killed." His shoulders drooped; he spoke not, but he jerked the chain, the gate flew open and he stepped inside and shut it with a slam; and I heard him fumbling with the fastening that held the door of the coop. I strode away as fast as I could, went to the school-house to dismiss the children and to tell them that I knew not when the session would be resumed. And when I returned everything was quiet. The old man was slowly walking up and down the spring-house path, evidently waiting for me. "Tell me all about it," he said, when I came up; "tell me from beginnin' to end." And I told him just as Alf had told me. He listened with his mouth half open, rolling up his shirt-sleeves and then rolling them down again, as if he knew not what to do with himself. "Well," he said, when I was done, "I don't know that I can blame him, poor feller, but they'll hang him." "Do you think so?" I cried, with a start, for I had not dwelt upon that possibility; it had not occurred to me, so wrapt had I been in thinking of his own mental distress and the heart-breaking grief of his mother. "Do you really think so?" "I know it--just as clear to me as that sunshine. Stuart's kin folks have got money and they'll spend every cent of it to put Alf on the gallows. Etheredge don't like Alf and will spend every cent he's got; and here we are without money. Yes, they'll hang him." "But General Lundsford--won't he stand as Alf's friend?"