Through Colonel Pendleton's bed-room window an hour later two pistol shots rang sharply, and through that window the colonel saw a man leap the fence around his tobacco beds and streak for the woods. From the shadow of a tree at his yard fence another flame burst, and by its light he saw a crouching figure. He called out sharply, the figure rose and came toward him, and in the moonlight the colonel saw uplifted to him, apologetic and half shamed, the face of Jason Hawn.
"No harm, colonel," he called. "Somebody was tearing up your tobacco beds and I just scared him off. I didn't try to hit him."
The colonel was dazed, but he spoke at last gently.
"Well, well, I can't let you lose your sleep this way, Jason; I'll get some guards now."
"If you won't let me," said the boy quickly, "you ought to send for
Gray."
The old gentleman looked thoughtful.
"Of course, perhaps I ought—why, I will."
"He won't come again to-night," said Jason. "I shot close enough to scare him, I reckon, Good-night, colonel."
"Thank you, my boy—good-night."