o precise as to what the Royal Duke wanted them for if
the pay were good and sure.

Accordingly Eben the Spy went to Supsorrow with an unquiet heart. He was
not at all assured how he would be received. He guessed, however, that a
promise made to the laird his cousin, that his herds and workmen, his
plough-hands and cattlemen, should be respected by the superintendent of
the "press," might do much to calm the first indignation which his
proposal would infallibly arouse.

Then Kennedy of Supsorrow hated the Free Traders, because they drew away
young men from his service and gave them false notions as to the amount
of yearly wage with which they ought to be content.

When a man can make as much by a couple of successful "runs" as by a
year's hard work at Supsorrow, he naturally began to reflect. And when
the Laird approached him to know if he were "staying on" as term-time
approached, the bargain became more difficult to strike. In many cases
it was finally understood between contracting parties that the wages
should continue the same, but that the occasional absence of a pair of
horses from the stables was a matter to which the master should shut his
eyes so long as he was satisfied in other ways.

Now Laird Supsorrow did not like this, but was compelled to like it or
leave it. He had so added to his fields, multiplied his acres, extended
the territories on which fed his flocks and herds, that service he must
have, and that of the best. He must be able to trust his men--for,
though he rode from dawn to dark, he could not overlook a tenth of his
belongings.

Still, though compelled to submit, Kennedy McClure bore a secret grudge
to the Traffic, all the more bitter that he did not venture to show it
in any way.

Eben found him getting ready to ride forth to look at a new farm for the
purchase of which he was negotiating.

The spy, in spite of his recent assumption of military port, made but a
poor figure beside his wealthy kinsman. The Laird wore his light blue
riding-coat with silver buttons, his long-flapped waistcoat, from which
at every other minute he took the gold snuff-box that was his pride,
white knee breeches, and rig-and-fur stockings of a tender grey-blue,
finished by stout black shoes with silver buckles of the solidest. He
clung to his old weather-beaten cocked hat, which, in the course of
argument, he would often take from his head and tap upon the palm of his
hand to emphasize his points.

"Kinsman