said Yancy, his mind opening to this fresh impression. "I reckon
it's rising a hundred miles or mo'," he concluded, at a venture.

"It's almost a thousand."

"Think of that! And you are that ca'm!" cried Yancy admiringly,
as a picture of simply stupendous effort offered itself to his
mind's eye. He added: "I am mighty sorry you are going. We-all
here shall miss you--specially Hannibal. He just regularly pines
for Sunday as it is."

"I hope he will miss me a little--I'm afraid I want him to!" She
glanced down at the boy as she spoke, and into her eyes, very
clear and very blue and shaded by long dark lashes, stole a look
of wistful tenderness. She noted how his little hand was clasped
in Yancy's, she realized the perfect trust of his whole attitude
toward this big bearded man, and she was conscious of a sudden
feeling of profound respect for the Scratch Hiller.

"But ain't you ever coming back, Miss Betty?" asked Hannibal
rather fearfully, smitten with the awesome sense of impermanence
which dogs our footsteps.

"Oh, I hope so, dear--I wish to think so. But you see my home is
not here." She turned to Yancy, "So it is settled that he is to
remain with you?"

"Not exactly, Miss Betty. You see, there's an order from the
Fayetteville co't fo' me to give him up to this man Bladen."