CHAPTER VIII.
THAT WHICH IS GREATER THAN THE LAW.
When she had watched Sheriff Knox and his two companions ride out of sight, Auntie Sue turned slowly back into the house to face Judy, who stood accusingly in the kitchen doorway.
For what seemed a long time, the old gentlewoman and the deformed mountain girl stood silently looking at each other.

Then Auntie Sue nervously crossed the room to lay the newspaper, which the Sheriff had given her, on the table beside her basket of sewing.
Without speaking, Judy followed her, watching every movement intently.
Turning to face her companion again, Auntie Sue stood, still speechless, clasping and unclasping her thin old hands.
Judy spoke in her shrill, drawling monotone: "You-all have sure fixed hit this here time, hain't you?
Can't you-all see what a hell of a hole you've done got us inter ?" When Auntie Sue apparently could not reply, Judy continued: "Just as if hit wasn't more 'n enough for you-all ter go an' wear yourself plumb out a-takin' keer of that there ornery, no-'count feller, what I never ought ter dragged out of the river nohow.

An', now, you-all got ter go an' just naturally lie like you did ter the Sheriff an' that there deteckertive man.

I was plumb scared to death a-listenin' ter you through the crack in the kitchen door.

I 'lowed every minute they'd ketch you, sure.