"It runs right through the house! And some one, years ago, blazed the trees along there, so it is very easy to tell when you step from one state to another. My man left there recently, refusing to stay any longer. These Appleweight people thought he was a spy, and posted a notice on his door warning him to leave, so I shifted him to the other end of the estate."
"Did you see the sheriff at Kildare?"
"I haven't seen him. When I asked for him yesterday I found he had left town and gone to Greensboro to see his sick uncle."
Ardmore laughed and slapped his knee.
"Who takes care of the dungeon while he's away?"
"There are no prisoners in the Kildare jail. The sheriff's afraid to keep any; and he's like the rest of the people around here. They all live in terror of Appleweight."
"Appleweight is a powerful character in these parts," said Cooke, pouring the coffee he had been making, and handing a tin cupful to Ardmore. "He's tolerable well off, and could make money honestly if he didn't operate stills, rob country stores, mix up in politics, and steal horses when he and his friends need them."
"I guess he has never molested us any, has he, Paul?" asked Ardmore, not a little ashamed of his ignorance of his own business.
"A few of our cows stray away sometimes and never come back. And for two years we have lost the corn out of the crib away over here near the deer park."
"They've got the juice out of it before this," remarked Cooke.