I reckon you've missed the hoss-racing, but you'll be in time for the shooting.
Why ain't you there, Mr.Carrington ?" "I'm going now, Mr.Pegloe," answered Carrington, as he followed the judge, who, with Mahaffy and the boy, had moved off.
"Better stop at Boggs'!" Pegloe called after them.
But the judge had already formed his decision.
Horse-racing and shooting-matches were suggestive of that progressive spirit, the absence of which he had so much lamented at the jail raising at Pleasantville--Memphis was their objective point, but Boggs' became a side issue of importance.

They had gained the edge of the village when Carrington overtook them.

He stepped to Hannibal's side.
"Here, let me carry that long rifle, son!" he said.

Hannibal looked up into his face, and yielded the piece without a word.

Carrington balanced it on his big, muscular palm.