“From across the mountains.”
“Alone?”
“No, sir. Mr. Yancy fetched me—part way.” The boy's voice broke when he spoke his Uncle Bob's name, and his eyes swam with tears, but the judge did not notice this.
“And where are you going?”
“To West Tennessee.”
“Have you any friends there?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You've money enough to see you through?” and what the judge intended for a smile of fatherly affection became a leer of infinite cunning.
“I got ten dollars.”
“Ten dollars—” the judge smacked his lips once. “Ten dollars” he repeated, and smacked his lips twice. There was a brief silence, in which he seemed to give way to pleasant reveries.