He left Beryl's chair, and once more approached the jury,
"Isam Hornbuckle."
A negro man, apparently sixty years old, limped into the witness stand, and having been sworn, stood leaning on his stick, staring uneasily about him.
"What is your name?"
"Isam Clay Hornbuckle."
"Where do you live?"
"Nigh the forks of the road, close to 'Possum Ridge."
"How far from town?"
"By short cuts I make it about ten miles; but the gang what works the road, calls it twelve."
"Have you a farm there?"