“Yes.”
The humpback compressed the muscles of his mouth and nodded his head slowly.
“I see,” he said, “your father claims the lands of Nicholas Parks under some old patent that gives him a color of title and he has sent you here to get into possession. A color of title is not good at law without possession. Well, I can tell you, the state's not going to lie by and allow you to acquire adverse possession. Old Nicholas Parks died without heirs, and, by the law, his property escheats to the state. So you can make up your mind to get off.”
He reached over, caught the whip out of its socket, and struck the horses. They jumped and the buckboard went clattering down the mountain, the wheels bouncing on the stones.
The little boy raised his hand and pointed his tiny finger at the departing horses.
“Man hurt gups,” he said.
The School-teacher stood in the road watching the humpback lash the half-starved team. His face was full of misery.