Her daughter glanced indifferently in Ware's direction.

She was a fine strapping girl, giving that sense of physical abundance which the planter admired.
"They'd better keep her out of Murrell's way!" he thought; aloud he said, "Anybody with the captain ?" "Colonel Fentress is." "Humph!" muttered Ware.

He moved to the door of the cabin and pushing it open, entered the room where Murrell and Fentress were seated facing each other across the breakfast table.

The planter nodded curtly.

He had not seen Murrell since the murder, and the sight of him quickened the spirit of antagonism which he had been nursing.