Lone Stacy's voice cast off its almost conciliating tone and became one of command. "I wants thet ye shell ride back over thar es fast es a beast kin carry ye--an' git thar afore ther revenue. I wants thet ye shell move thet still into a place of safe concealment erginst his comin', I wants thet 'stid of tryin' ter carcumvent him ye sha'n't be thar at all when he comes." "Not be thar?" The words were echoed in surprise, and the older head bowed gravely. "Jist so. Ef they don't find ther copper worm ner ther kittle--an' don't git ye ter testify ergin me, I've still got a right gay chanst ter come cl'ar." "Does ye 'low," demanded the son with deeply hurt pride, "that anybody this side of hell-a-poppin' could fo'ce me ter give testimony ergin my own blood?" Again the wrinkled hand of the father fell on the shoulder of his son. It was as near to a caress as his undemonstrative nature could approach. "I wouldn't hev ye perjure yoreself, son--an' without ye did thet--ye'd convict me--ef ye was thar in Co'te." Turner glanced up at the narrow slit in the brick wall through which now showed only a greenish strip of pallid sky. His lips worked spasmodically. "I come over hyar resolved ter sot ye free," he said slowly, "ter fight my way outen hyar an' take ye along with me--but I'm ready ter heed yore counsel." "Then ride over home es fast es ye kin go--an' when ye've told yore maw what's happened, an' hid ther still, take Lee along with ye an' go cl'ar acrost inter Virginny whar no summons sarver kain't find ye. Stay plumb away from hyar till I sends ye word. Tell yore maw where I kin reach ye, but don't tell me. I wants ter swear I don't know." Bear Cat hesitated, then his voice shook with a storm of protest. "I don't delight none thet ye should go down thar an' sulter in jail whilst I'm up hyar enjoyin' freedom." The older man met this impetuous outburst with the stoic's fine tranquillity. "When they tuck me afore," he said, "I left yore maw unprotected behind me an' you was only a burden on her then. Now I kin go easy in my mind, knowin' she's got you." The prisoner's voice softened. "She war a mighty purty gal, yore maw, in them times. Right sensibly Blossom Fulkerson puts me in mind of her now." Lone Stacy broke off with abruptness and added gruffly: "I reckon ye'd better be a-startin' home now--hit's comin' on ter be nightfall." As Turner Stacy went out he turned and looked back. The cell was almost totally dark now and its inmate had reseated himself, his shoulders sagging dejectedly. "I'll do what he bids me now," Bear Cat told himself grimly, "but some day thar's a-goin' ter be a reckonin'." On his way to the livery stable he met Kinnard Towers on foot but, as always, under escort. Still stinging under the chagrin of an hereditary enemy's gratuitous intervention in his behalf and a deep-seated suspicion of the man, he halted stiffly and his brow was lowering.