"You'd jest orter 'a' heerd the master a-talkin' to Mrs. Grayson," said Mely McCord afterward. "He stood there lookin' at her with his head turned kind-uh cornerin'-like, un his words was so soft-like un pitiful;—lawsey! ef he did n' make me feel jes like 's ef my heart wuz a-comin right up into my mouth."
Bob McCord led old Blaze up in front of the gate, and all in the house went down to the road.
"Mr. McCord," said Mason, "I want to drive that wagon."
"I don't b'lieve you kin do this fust piece uv road with nothin' but a weakly moonshine," said Bob.
"Oh, yes! I've been over it a good many times." Only Barbara knew how often Hiram had traversed it.
When the schoolmaster had helped Mrs. Grayson and Barbara into the wagon, and while Mely was assisting them to adjust themselves, he went to the horse's head, where McCord was standing, and said in a low voice:
"They told me there was a rush to lynch him last night; and Ike Albaugh says that Jake Hogan, who worked for them this last harvest-time, told him at the camp-ground that the Broad Run boys were going to make another of their visits to Moscow to-night if the coroner's inquest was against Tom. Now, Tom may be innocent; and he ought to have a fair show anyhow."
"I'd better see to that!" said Bob. "I 'low I'll jest drop in amongst 'em over onto the run, kind-uh accidental-like, afore dinner-time to-day, an' throw 'em off, one way er 'nother, ez the case may be."
Mrs. Grayson was seated in a chair placed in the springless wagon for her comfort, while Hiram and Barbara sat on a board laid across from one side to the other of the wagon. They departed out of sight slowly, Mason guiding the horse carefully over the rough ground in the obscurity of a moonlight not yet beginning to give way to the break of day.