all wild things, when they felt they were cornered they were
prone to fight; and in this instance it was clearly iniquitous
that Bob Yancy's right to smack Dave Blount should be questioned.
That denied what was left of human liberty. But beyond this was
a matter of even greater importance: they felt that Yancy's
possession of the boy was somehow involved.

Yancy had declared himself simply but specifically on this point.
Law or no law, he would kill whoever attempted to take the boy
from him, and Scratch Hill believing to a man that in so doing he
would be well within his rights, was prepared to join in the
fray. Even Uncle Sammy, who had not been off the Hill in years,
announced that no consideration of fatigue would keep him away
from the scene of action and possible danger, and Yancy loaned
him his mule and cart for the occasion. When the patriarch was
helped to his seat in the ancient vehicle he called loudly for
his rifle.

"Why, pap, what do you want with a weapon?" asked his son
indulgently.
"If there air shootin' I may take a hand in it. Now you-all give
me a fair hour's start with this mule critter of Bob's, and if
nothin' busts I'll be at the squire's as soon as the best of
you."

Uncle Sammy was given the time allowance he asked and then
Scratch Hill wended its way down the path to the branch and the
highroad. Yancy led the straggling procession, with the boy
trotting by his side, his little sunburned fist clasped in the
man's great hand. He, too, was armed. He carried the old