CHAPTER VII

THE FIGHT AT SLOSSON'S TAVERN


Murrell had ridden out of the hills some hours back. He now
faced the flashing splendors of a June sunset, but along the
eastern horizon the mountains rose against a somber sky. Night
was creeping into their fastnesses. Already there was twilight
in those cool valleys lying within the shadow of mighty hills. A
month and more had elapsed since Bob Yancy's trial. Just two
days later man and boy disappeared from Scratch Hill. This had
served to rouse Murrell to the need of immediate action, but he
found, where Yancy was concerned, Scratch Hill could keep a
secret, while Crenshaw's mouth was closed on any word that might
throw light on the plans of his friend.

"It's plain to my mind, Captain, that Bladen will never get the
boy. I reckon Bob's gone into hiding with him," said the
merchant, with spacious candor.

The fugitives had not gone into hiding, however; they had
traversed the state from east to west, and Murrell was soon on
their trail and pressing forward in pursuit. Reaching the
mountains, he heard of them first as ten days ahead of him and
bound for west Tennessee, the ten days dwindled to a week, the
week became five days, the five days three; and now as he emerged
from the last range of hills he caught sight of them. They were
half a mile distant perhaps, but he was certain that the man and