of Duncan's angry refusal to entertain the charge.
Uncle Boley nodded now and then as Hartwell proceeded to the end.
"Stott's workin' to blacken you so deep nobody'll believe you. He don't want you to have any standin' at all in case you ever suspicion him and tell it. Firin' Sallie helps. It shows you up as a man with a curse ag'in' him that passes on to whosomever he touches."
Texas stood, shoulders up, his body stiff as iron, his eyes fixed in frowning glare on the street through the open door as the old man spoke. Now he turned suddenly, holding out his hand as if in farewell.
Lifting wondering eyes, Uncle Boley took it, and felt that it was as cold as the flesh of the dead.
"Uncle Boley, you've been a powerful good friend to me; you've stood by me when I was a kicked dog in the corner, and I'll carry the gratitude for it in the warmest place in my heart, sir, the longest day I live. If I don't happen to see you no more, sir, I want you to know that I wish you well, now and hereafter, for evermore."
"Why, in God's name, boy—why, Texas—what—what're you goin' to do?"
The old man clung to his hand, stroking it with his grease-black fingers, looking up at his young friend with frightened, appealing eyes.
