"I
reckon," he continued, solemnly, peering at the other from under his rusty
hat-brim, "I reckon when you see him, maybe you'll want to put a kind of
codicil to that deed to the 'Herald.'"
"How's that, Martin?"
"Why, I guess maybe you'll--well, wait till you see him."
"I don't want to wait much longer, when I remember what I owe him and how
I have used him, and that I have been here nearly three hours without
seeing him."
As they neared the brick house Harkless made out, through the trees, a
retreative flutter of skirts on the porch, and the thought crossed his
mind that Minnie had flown indoors to give some final directions toward
the preparation of the banquet; but when the barouche halted at the gate,
he was surprised to see her waving to him from the steps, while Tom
Meredith and Mr. Bence and Mr. Boswell formed a little court around her.
Lige Willetts rode up on horse back at the same moment, and the judge was
waiting in front of the gate. Harkless stepped out of the barouche and
took his hand.
"I was told young Fisbee was here."
"Young Fisbee is here," said the judge.
"Where, please, Briscoe?"
"Want to see him right off?"
"I do, very much."
"You'll withdraw his discharge, I expect, now?"
"Ah!" exclaimed the other. "I want to make him a present of the 'Herald,'
if he'll take it.
Pages:
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408