you'd specially recommend?" lifting his grave eyes to hers.

"It would really be the sensible thing to do!" said Betty. "I am
sure you would like West Tennessee--they say you are a great
hunter." Yancy smiled almost guiltily.

"I like a little spo't now and then yes, ma'am, I do hunt some,"
he admitted.

"Miss Betty, Uncle Bob's the best shot we got! You had ought to
see him shoot!" said Hannibal.

"Mr. Yancy, if you should cross the mountains, remember I live
near Memphis. Belle Plain is the name of the plantation--it's
not hard to find; just don't forget--Belle Plain."

"I won't forget, and mebby you will see us there one of these
days. Sho', I've seen mighty little of the world--about as far
as a dog can trot it a couple of hours!"

"Just think what it will mean to Hannibal if you become involved
further with Mr. Bladen." Betty spoke earnestly, bending toward
him, and Yancy understood the meaning that lay back of her words.

"I've thought of that, too," the Scratch Hiller answered
seriously. Betty glanced toward the squire and Mr. Crenshaw.
They were standing near the bars that gave entrance to the lane.
Murrell had left them and was walking briskly down the road
toward Crenshaw's store where his horse was tied. She bent down
and gave Yancy her slim white hand.