"His, father lived to be ninety, John, and as spry an old
gentleman as a body'd wish to see. I don't uphold no man for
committing murder, but I do consider the sheriff should have
waited on Baldy to get mo' reasonable, like he'd done in time if
they'd just let him alone--but no, sir, he reckoned the law
wa'n't no respecter of persons. He was a fine-appearin' man,
that sheriff, and just elected to office. I remember we had to
leave off the tail-gate to my cart to accommodate him. Yes, sir,
they pretty near pestered Baldy into his grave--and seein' that
pore old fellow pottering around year after year always toting a
gun was the patheticest sight I most ever seen, and I made up my
mind then if it ever seemed necessary for me to kill a man, I'd
leave the county or maybe the state," concluded the squire.

"Don't you reckon it would be some better to leave the state afo'
you. done the killing?" suggested Yancy.

"Well, a man might. I don't know but what he'd be justified in
getting shut of his troubles like that."

When Betty Malroy rode away from Squire Balaam's Murrell galloped
after her. Presently she heard the beat of his horse's hoofs as
he came pounding along the sandy road and glanced back over her
shoulder. With an exclamation of displeasure she reined in her
horse. She had not wished to ride to the Barony with him, yet
she had no desire to treat him with discourtesy, especially as
the Ferrises were disposed to like him. Murrell quickly gained a
place at her side.