"Yes."

The mender of nets took from his bosom a little worn book. "Will you
swear upon this that you will never reveal what I am about to say to
you, save to such persons as I shall designate? For myself I would take
your simple word, for we are both gentlemen, but other lives than mine
hang in the balance."

Landless touched the book with his lips. "I swear," he said.

The man brought his serene, white face nearer.

"What would you have given," he asked solemnly, "for the cause for which
your father died?"

"My life," said Landless.

"Would you give it still?"

"A worthless gift," said Landless bitterly. "Yea, I would give it, but
the cause is dead."

The other shook his head. "The cause of the just man dieth not."

There was a pause broken by the mender of nets.

"Thou art no willing slave, I trow. The thought of escape is ever with
thee."

"I shall escape," said Landless deliberately. "And if they track me they
shall not take me alive."

The mender of nets gave a melancholy smile. "They would track you, never
fear!" He leaned forward and touched Landless with his hand. "What if I
show you a better way?" he asked in a whisper.

"What way?"

"A way to recover your liberty, and with it, the liberty of downtrodden
brethren. A way to raise the banner of the Commonwealth and to put down
the Stuart."

Landless stared. "A miserable hut," he said, "in the midst of a desolate
Virginia marsh, and within it, a brace of slaves, the one a cripple, the
other a convict,--and Charles Stuart on his throne in Whitehall!
Friend, this dismal place hath turned your wits!"

The other smiled. "My wits are sound," he said, "as sound as they were
upon that day when I gave my voice for the death (a sad necessity!) of
this young man's father. And I do not think to shake England,--I speak
of Virginia."

"Of Virginia!"

"Yea, of this goodly land, a garden spot, a new earth where should be
planted the seeds of a mighty nation, strong in justice and simple
right, wise, temperate, brave; an enlightened people, serving God in
spirit and in truth, not with the slavish observance of prelatist and
papist, nor with the indecent familiarity of the Independent; loyal to
their governors, but exercising the God-given right of choosing those
who are to rule over them; a people amongst whom liberty shall walk
unveiled, and to whom Astraea shall come again; a people as free as the
eagle I watched this morning, soaring higher and ever h