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Arch grabbed his shoulder and shook him until his teeth rattled. Then Lonnie realized what he had been saying.

“Now, look here, Lonnie,” Arch shouted.”You must be out of your head, because you know good and well you wouldn’t talk like a nigger-lover in your right mind.”

“That’s right,” Lonnie said, trembling all over.”I sure wouldn’t want to talk like that.”

He could still feel the grip on his shoulder where Arch’s strong fingers had hurt him.

“Did Clem go to the swamp, Lonnie?” Dudley Smith said.”Is that right, Lonnie?”

Lonnie tried to shake his head; he tried to nod his head. Then Arch’s fingers squeezed his thin neck. Lonnie looked at the men wild-eyed.

“Where’s Clem hiding, Lonnie?” Arch demanded, squeezing.

Lonnie went three or four steps towards the barn. When he stopped, the men behind him pushed forward again. He found himself being rushed behind the barn and beyond it.

“All right, Lonnie,” Arch said.”Now which way?”

Lonnie pointed towards the patch of woods where the creek was. The swamp was in the other direction.

“He said he was going to hide out in that little patch of woods along the creek over there, Mr. Arch,” Lonnie said.”I reckon he’s over there now.”

Lonnie felt himself being swept forward, and he stumbled over the rough ground trying to keep from being knocked down and trampled upon. Nobody was talking, and everyone seemed to be walking on tiptoes. The gray light of early dawn was increasing enough both to hide them and to show the way ahead.

Just before they reached the fringe of the woods, the men separated, and Lonnie found himself a part of the circle that was closing in on Clem.

Lonnie was alone, and there was nobody to stop him, but he was unable to move forward or backward. It began to be clear to him what he had done.

Clem was probably up a tree somewhere in the woods ahead, but by that time he had been surrounded on all sides. If he should attempt to break and run, he would be shot down like a rabbit.

Lonnie sat down on a log and tried to think what to do. The sun would be up in a few more minutes, and as soon as it came up, the men would close in on the creek and Clem. He would have no chance at all among all those shotguns and pistols.

Once or twice he saw the flare of a match through the underbrush where some of the men were lying in wait. A whiff of cigarette smoke struck his nostrils, and he found himself wondering if Clem could smell it wherever he was in the woods.

There was still no sound anywhere around him, and he knew that Arch Gunnard and the rest of the men were waiting for the sun, which would in a few minutes come up behind him in the east.

It was light enough by that time to see plainly the rough ground and the tangled underbrush and the curling bark on the pine trees.

The men had already begun to creep forward, guns raised as if stalking a deer. The woods were not large, and the circle of men would be able to cover it in a few minutes at the rate they were going forward. There was still a chance that Clem had slipped through the circle before dawn broke, but Lonnie felt that he was still there. He began to feel then that Clem was there because he himself had placed him there for the men to find more easily.

Lonnie found himself moving forward, drawn into the narrowing circle. Presently he could see the men all around him in dim outline. Their eyes were searching the heavy green pine tops as they went forward from tree to tree.

“Oh, Pa!” he said in a hoarse whisper.”Oh, Pa!”

He went forward a few steps, looking into the bushes and up into the tree tops. When he saw the other men again, he realized that it was not Mark Newsome being sought. He did not know what had made him forget like that.

The creeping forward began to work into the movement of Lonnie’s body. He found himself springing forward on his toes, and his body was leaning in that direction. It was like creeping up on a rabbit when you did not have a gun to hunt with.