Raymond S. Spears

“ His business there was to kill a man. The man to be killed was Lunmer Andrest, an impudent young pup of a swamp-angel who didn't take Durm Clinchell as seriously as some others did, in spite of all that the old man had done and been in the Dark Bend swamps.
"Now if I hadn't never killed anybody, he would have been excused," Clinchell swore to himself; "but I'd killed fellers before. Men that don't mind their own business has naturally got to be killed up—he knows that!" ”

“ Sheriff," Andrest said. "Thank you, judge! A man gets desperate when an old scoundrel like this one sets out to shoot him, 'specially when a man knows that there's no court to punish him if he does meanness. I 'lowed the only way to do was get him peace-bonded 'fore we got to shootin'. If that don't do no good, I'll do some bushwhacking—yes, sir! That ain't no threat, sir; it's a promise. Good day, sir!"
"Good day, sir!"
The judge rose to bow. Andrest backed away, wiping the sweat from his forehead. He left Clinchell's rifle on the sidewalk and returned to his canoe. ”

“ The young man was grim and angry. His eyes shone with hate. These county officials were Clinchell's friends. Clinchell owned fifty thousand acres of gum and cypress land, and picked a thousand acres of cotton every year. He could kill a man, and no one would say a word beyond seeing that he was tried for homicide and properly acquitted. Andrest was just a poor boy, with few friends and no relatives. He knew what to expect there in the county court of Cypress County.
"Yes, sir," Andrest continued, biting his words into square chunks, "Mr. Clinchell wants to be put under bonds to keep the peace. ”