"But he does," the white man replied, swinging his lantern toward the negro. "Gabe Little lives here." "That you, Gabe?" Taylor asked. "Yas, whut de white folks has left o' me." "All right. You are well enough acquainted with me to know that I wouldn't break a lock----" "But you have, sir," the white man insisted. "Not exactly; but I have drawn the staple. By the way, whose dog is this?" The dog had jumped out and was frisking about Taylor's legs. "It's a setter and doesn't belong to you, Gabe." "Dat's fur me ter say, sah," the negro sullenly replied. "That so? Well, I guess I'll keep him until I find out his owner." "That's neither here nor there!" the white man almost shouted. "The question is, what right have you got to go to a man's house at night and break his lock?" "None, I tell you; and I'm not only willing to pay all damages, but will answer to the law." "The law!" and this time he shouted. "Law to protect a negro's lock? Let us hear no more about the law. What we want is justice, and we're going to have it, sooner or later." "Who are you, anyway?" the giant asked. "Oh, yes, you are Mr. Mayo, I believe. Well, I'll bid you good-night." "Wait. You have invaded this man's premises and committed a violence." "That's a fact, and I'm sorry for it." "Yes, you are now, but how will you feel about it to-morrow? You'll forget all about it, and that's the way the colored man is treated in this infernal state. No, Gabe," he quickly added, taking hold of the negro's arm, "Put it up. The time ain't ripe." The negro had drawn a knife, opening it with a spring, and with a loud snap he closed it. "We mustn't be the first to strike, although they break into our houses," Mayo said; and then speaking to Taylor he added: "You may go." The giant threw back his head and laughed. "I may go. Why, if it wasn't for the fact that I'm feeling particularly happy to-night, I'd mash your mouth for that. I should think that your poor fool there would teach you better than to talk to me that way. But I'll be a better friend to you than you have taught him to be--I'll give you some very useful advice. If you should ever see me coming along the road, turn back or climb the fence, for I might not be in as good humor as I'm in now." He whistled and strode away, with the dog trotting at his heels; and by the time he gained the road the occurrence had almost wholly passed out of his mind, so fondly did his heart leap at the thought of the letter in his bosom. Upon reaching a gate that opened into his meadow, he looked about and whistled for the dog, but the setter was gone. "You were howling for your master," the giant said, "and the greatest service I could do you was to let you go to him. All right, old fellow, we are both happier for having met."