For upward of a year, Ware had enjoyed great peace of mind as a direct result of his absence from west Tennessee, and when he thought of him at all he had invariably put a period to his meditations with, "I hope to hell he catches it wherever he is!" It had really seemed a pernicious thing to him that no one had shown sufficient public spirit to knock the captain on the head, and that this had not been done, utterly destroyed his faith in the good intentions of Providence.
More than this, Betty had spoken of the captain in no uncertain terms.
He was not to repeat that visit.

Tom must make that point clear to him.
Tom might entertain him if he liked at his office, but the doors of Belle Plain were closed against Captain Murrell; he was not to set his foot inside of them.
As Murrell approached, the hot color surged into Betty's face.

As for Hannibal, he had gone white to the lips, and his small hand clutched hers desperately; he was remembering all the terror of that hot dawn at Slosson's.
Murrell, with all his hardihood, realized that a too great confidence had placed him in an awkward position, for Betty turned her back on him and began an animated conversation with Carrington and Charley Norton; only Hannibal and the judge continued to regard him; the boy with a frightened, fascinated stare, the judge with a wide sweet smile.
Hicks, the Belle Plain overseer, pushed his way to Murrell's side.
"Here, John Murrell, ain't you going to show us a trick or two ?" he inquired.
Murrell turned quickly with a sense of relief.
"If you can spare me your rifle," he said, but his face wore a bleak look.

Glancing at Betty, he took up his station with the other contestants, whereupon two or three young planters silently withdrew from the firing-line.
"Don't you think you've seen about enough, Bet ?" demanded Tom.

"You don't care for the shooting, do you ?" "That's the very thing I do care for; I think I'd rather see that than the horse-racing," said Betty perversely.