“You can stop there as you go by.” “No,” said Hicks; “I never did believe in this damn foolishness about the girl, and I won't go near George's--” “I don't ask you to go there, you can give them the signal from the head of the bayou. All I want is for you to stop and light a fire on the shore. They'll know what that means. I'll give you a horse and fifty dollars for the job.” Hicks' eyes sparkled, but he only said “Make it twice that and maybe we can deal.” Racked and tortured, Ware hesitated; but the sun was slipping into the west, his windows blazed with the hot light. “You swear you'll do your part?” he said thickly. He took his purse from his pocket and counted out the amount due Hicks. He named the total, and paused irresolutely. “Don't you want the fire lighted?” asked Hicks. He was familiar with his employer's vacillating moods. “Yes,” answered Ware, his lips quivering; and slowly, with shaking fingers, he added to the pile of bills in Hicks' hand. “Well, take care of yourself,” said Hicks, when the count was complete. He thrust the roll of bills into his pocket and moved to the door. Alone again, the planter collapsed into his chair, breathing heavily, but his terrors swept over him and left him with a savage sense of triumph. This passed, he sprang up, intending to recall Hicks and unmake his bargain. What had he been thinking of--safety lay only in flight! Before he reached the door his greed was in the ascendant. He dropped down on the edge of his bed, his eyes fixed on the window. The sun sank lower. From where he sat he saw it through the upper half of the sash, blood-red and livid in a mist of fleecy clouds. It was in the tops of the old oaks now, which sent their shadows into his room. Again maddened by his terrors he started up and backed toward the door; but again his greed, the one dominating influence in his life, vanquished him. He watched the sun sink. He watched the red splendor fade over the river; he saw the first stars appear. He told himself that Hicks would soon be gone--if the fire was not to be lighted he must act at once! He stole to the window. It was dusk now, yet he could distinguish the distant wooded boundaries of the great fields framed by the darkening sky. Then in the silence he heard the thud of hoofs. CHAPTER XXXI. THE KEEL BOAT “PRICE,” began Mahaffy. They were back in Raleigh in the room the judge called his office, and this was Mahaffy's first opportunity to ease his mind on the subject of the duel, as they had only just parted from Yancy and Cavendish, who had stopped at one of the stores to make certain purchases for the raft. “Not a word, Solomon--it had to come. I am going to kill him. I shall feel better then.” “What if he kills you?” demanded Mahaffy harshly. The judge shrugged his shoulders. “That is as it may be.” “Have you forgotten your grandson?” Mahaffy's voice was still harsh and rasping.