mation to his aide-de-camp.

"That will settle the business, your honour," said the aide-de-camp as
he read the proclamation.

CHAPTER XXII. SHEILA HAS HER SAY

"Then, tell me please, what you know of the story," said the governor to
Sheila at King's House one afternoon two weeks later. "I only get meagre
reports from the general commanding. But you close to the intimate
source of the events must know all."

Sheila shrank at the suggestion in the governor's voice, but she did not
resent it. She had purposes which she must carry out, and she steeled
herself. She wanted to get from Lord Mallow a pledge concerning Dyck
Calhoun, and she must be patient.

"I know nothing direct from Mr. Calhoun, your honour!" she said, "but
only through his servant, Michael Clones, who is a friend of my Darius
Boland, and they have met often since the first outbreak. You know,
of course, what happened at Port Louise--how the Maroons seized and
murdered the garrison, how families were butchered when they armed
first, how barbarism broke loose and made all men combine to fight the
rebels. Even before Mr. Calhoun came they had had record of a sack of
human ears, cut from the dead rebel-slaves, when they had been killed
by faithful slaves, and good progress was made. But the revolters fixed
their camps on high rocks, and by blowing of shells brought many fresh
recruits to the struggle. It was only when Mr. Calhoun came with his
hounds that anything decisive was done. For the rebels--Maroons and
slaves--were hid, well entrenched and cautious, and the danger was
becoming greater every day. On Mr. Calhoun's arrival, he was almost
caught in ambush, being misled, and saved himself only by splendid
markmanship. He was attacked by six rebels of whom he killed four, and
riding his wounded horse over the other two he escaped. Then he set the
hounds to work and the rebellion in that district was soon over."

"It was gathering strength with increasing tragedy elsewhere," remarked
the governor. "Some took refuge in hidden places, and came out only to
steal, rob, and murder--and worse. In one place, after a noted slave,
well known for his treachery, had been killed--Khoftet was his name--his
head was cut off by slaves friendly to us and his heart roasted and
eaten. There is but one way to deal with these people. No gaming or
drinking must be allowed, blowing of shells or beating of drums must
be forbidden, and every free negro or mulatto must wea