Once he muttered to himself,
"Will the crazy fool try it, or did I dream half of it?"
It was when he came opposite the little family burying ground that he
saw what he had been looking for--a puff of white smoke, coming from
the thick cedars in one corner. He toppled so slowly to the left that
Coltrane had time to urge his horse to that side, and catch him with
one arm.
The squirrel hunter had not overpraised his aim. He had sent the
bullet where he intended, and where Goree had expected that it would
pass--through the breast of Colonel Abner Coltrane's black frock
coat.
Goree leaned heavily against Coltrane, but he did not fall. The
horses kept pace, side by side, and the Colonel's arm kept him steady.
The little white houses of Laurel shone through the trees, half a mile
away. Goree reached out one hand and groped until it rested upon
Coltrane's fingers, which held his bridle.
"Good friend," he said, and that was all.
Thus did Yancey Goree, as he rode past his old home, make, considering
all things, the best showing that was in his power.
XVI
THE SONG AND THE SERGEANT
Half a dozen people supping at a table in one of the upper-Broadway
all-night restaurants were making too much noise. Three times the
manager walked past them with a politely warning glance; but their
argument had waxed too warm to be quelled by a manager's gaze.
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