“It's no use, Judd,” he said, “you'd better let the law take its course.” The old man was scornful.
“Thar's never been a Tolliver convicted of killin' nobody, much less hung—an' thar ain't goin' to be.”
“I'm glad you warned me,” said Hale still quietly, “though it wasn't necessary. But if he's convicted, he'll hang.”
The giant's face worked in convulsive helplessness and he turned away.
“You hold the cyards now, but my deal is comin'.”
“All right, Judd—you're getting a square one from me.”
Back rode the Tollivers and Devil Judd never opened his lips again until he was at home in Lonesome Cove. June was sitting on the porch when he walked heavy-headed through the gate.
“They've ketched Rufe,” he said, and after a moment he added gruffly:
“Thar's goin' to be sure enough trouble now. The Falins'll think all them police fellers air on their side now. This ain't no place fer you—you must git away.”
June shook her head and her eyes turned to the flowers at the edge of the garden: