s
nod; the third, with as impassive a countenance as Sir Charles's own,
bowed gravely, and stood with folded arms and a quietly attentive mien.

The planter gathered himself up from his chair and came forward to the
top of the steps, his tall, corpulent figure towering above the men
below much as his fortunes towered above theirs.

"Now, men," he said, speaking sternly and with slow emphasis. "I have
just one word to say to you. Listen well to it. I am your master; you
are my servants. I reckon myself a good master, it not being my way to
treat those belonging to me, whether white or black, like dumb beasts.
Give me obedience and the faithful work of your hands, and you shall
find me kind. But if you are stubborn or rebellious, by the Lord, you
will rue the day you left Newgate! Whipping-post and branding-irons are
at hand, and death is something closer to a felon in Virginia than in
England. Be careful! Now, Woodson, what have you put these men to?"

"They'll go into the three-mile field to-morrow morning, your honor,
unless you wish other disposition made of them."

"No, that will do. Take them away."

The overseer faced about and was marching off with the recruits for the
three-mile field when his master's voice arrested him.

"Take those two in front on with you, Woodson, and send me back the
brown-haired one."

The "brown-haired one" turned as his companions disappeared around a
hedge of privet and came slowly back to the steps.

"You wished to speak to me, sir?" he said quietly.

"Yes. You are the man who was tolerably helpful in the squall last
night?"

"I was so fortunate as to be of some small service, sir."

"You understand the handling of a boat?"

"Yes, sir."

"Hum. I will tell Woodson to try you with a sloop when the press of work
in the fields is past. What is your name?"

"Godfrey Landless."

"Chevalier d'Industrie and frequenter of the Newgate Ordinary," put in
Sir Charles lazily. "Of the Roundhead persuasion too, if I mistake
not,--from robbery in the large, descended to thievery in the small;
from the murder of a King to knives and a black alley mouth. Commend me
to these grave rogues for real knaves! Pray inform us to what little
mishap we owe the honor of your company. Did you mercifully incline to
relieve weary travelers over Hounslow Heath by disburdening them of
their heavy purses? Or did you mistake your own handwriting for that of
some one else? Or did you woo a mercer's wife