“Perhaps you’d like to bet a little of your money?” remarked Murrell.

“I’m ready to do that too, sir,” responded Norton quietly.

“Five hundred dollars, then, that this gentleman in whose success you take so great an interest, can neither equal nor better my next shot!” Murrell had produced a roll of bills as he spoke.  Norton colored with embarrassment.  Carrington took in the situation.

“Wait a minute—­” he said, and passed his purse to Norton.

“Cover his money, sir,” he added briefly.

“Thank you, my horses have run away with most of my cash,” explained Norton.

“Your shot!” said Carrington shortly, to the outlaw.

Murrell taking careful aim, fired, clipping the center.

As soon as the result was known, Carrington raised his rifle; his bullet, truer than his opponent’s, drove out the center.  Murrell turned on him with an oath.

“You shoot well, but a board stuck against a tree is no test for a man’s nerve,” he said insolently.

Carrington was charging his piece.

“I only know of one other kind of target,” he observed coolly.

“Yes—­a living target!” cried Murrell.

The crowd opened from right to left.  Betty’s face grew white, and uttering a smothered cry she started to descend from the carriage, but the judge rested his hand on her arm.

“No, my dear young, lady, our friend is quite able to care for himself.”

Carrington shook the priming into the pan of Hannibal’s ancient weapon.

“I am ready for that, too,” he said.  There was a slow smile on his lips, but his eyes, black and burning, looked the captain through and through.

“Another time—­” said Murrell, scowling.

“Any time,” answered Carrington indifferently.

CHAPTER XVI

THE PORTAL OF HOPE

“This—­” the speaker was judge Price; “this is the place for me:  They are a warm-hearted people, sir; a prosperous people, and a patriotic people with an unstinted love of country.  A people full of rugged virtues engaged in carving a great state out of the indulgent bosom of Nature.  I like the size of their whisky glasses; I like the stuff that goes into them; I despise a section that separates its gallons into too many glasses.  Show me a community that does that, and I’ll show you a community rapidly tending toward a low scale of living.  I’d like to hang out my shingle here and practise law.”

The judge and Mr. Mahaffy were camped in the woods between Boggs’ and Raleigh.  Betty had carried Hannibal off to spend the night at Belle Plain, Carrington had disappeared with Charley Norton; but the judge and Mahaffy had lingered in the meadow until the last refreshment booth struck its colors to the twilight, and they had not lingered in vain.  The judge threw himself at full length on the ground, and Mahaffy dropped at his side.  About them, in the ruddy glow of their camp-fire, rose the dark wall of the forest.