The son waited till his mother's carriage had gone on. "You are quite sure it was the yellow boy who did it? I heard at the post-office that you had found his knife." Durgan explained that this was not so, but reiterated his conviction as to the guilt of 'Dolphus. Said Blount slowly: "Your opinion will be conclusive. It wouldn't go far in a Northern court, perhaps; but here, and for niggers, if you tell your tale well it will prove sufficient." "I'd be satisfied to get Adam off, if that could be done without hanging the other." Blount stooped forward to rub the mare's ears and smooth her silken mane. His young countenance was benign and thoughtful. "You had better have him sentenced," he said quietly. "It's annoying for you, of course, because the result rests with you--the General settled that with the judge. But it's your duty; and you do more for the world in ridding it of one villain than by a lot of charity." Durgan felt ill-satisfied now with the sentiment of these last words, altho a few days before it had been his own. Young Blount rode away with serious mien. The hot sunflecks fell between chestnut boughs upon horse and rider and tawny wheel-ruts. At sunset Durgan went up to the meadow, where he knew Bertha would come to feed her four-footed friends. As he waited he sat on the ledge of the wooden barn. He saw Bertha come through the meadow gate. The calves ran to meet and conduct her to the place of feeding. Handsome young things they were, red and white, with square heads and shoulders. They formed a bodyguard on either side of the terrier and mastiff, which always had the right of place nearest to her. Thus Bertha advanced down the green-grown road between the ranks of deep, flowering grass. She carried a bucket and a basket with fine, erect balance, one in either hand. The meadow slanted upward from the barn. As Durgan walked to meet her and take the burden, he could just see over its rise the heads of the opposite mountains. A wide gulf of slant sunbeams lay between. Bertha greeted him with serious mien. When he had taken her load and fallen into line among her animals, she said: "You know the worst about us now." "Do I?" asked he. For he discovered at that moment that the question he must now put was a cruel one, and could not be shirked or smoothed over. "Alas!" She uttered the one deprecating word slowly, and moved on in silence.