“Hello!” came the hail from outside.
Nancy let the baby slip from her arms to the floor, and the little thing stood whimpering and rubbing her eyes, clinging to her grandmother’s skirts.
“Hush—hush!” cautioned the old woman, barely above her breath.
“Hello! Hello in thar! You better answer—we see yo’ light. Hello in thar!”
“Whose—voice—is that?” breathed old Nancy.
“It sounded like Blatch Turrentine’s,” Creed whispered back as softly.
“Hit do,” she agreed with conviction.
Suddenly a shot rang out, and Doss Provine sat up on the edge of the bed with a gurgle of terror. Little Buck wakened at the same instant, and ran to his grandmother.
“I ain’t scared, Granny,” he asseverated, “I kin fight fer ye.”
“Hush—hush!” cautioned Nancy, bending to gather in the sun-burned tow head at her knee.