'Our pea-green wagon, our wagon of green, Lillibulero, bullen-a-la,'" chanted Cicely on the back seat. "Cecilia!" said the judge, with dignity. Eve sat beside him; courteously he entertained her. "Have you ever reflected, Miss Bruce, upon the very uninteresting condition of the world at present? Everything is known. Where can a gentleman travel now, with the element of the unexpected as a companion? There are positively no lands left unvulgarized save the neighborhood of the Poles." "Central Africa," Eve suggested. "Africa? I think I said for gentlemen." "You turbulent old despot, curb yourself," said Cicely, _sotto voce_. "In the old days, Miss Bruce," the judge went on, "we had Arabia, we had Thibet, we had Cham-Tartary; we could arrive on camels at Erzerum. Hey! what are you about there, boy? Turn out!" "Turn out yourself." The track had passed down into a winding hollow between sloping banks about six feet high; on the other side of a curve they had come suddenly upon an empty hay-cart which was approaching from the opposite direction, drawn by two mules; the driver, an athletic young negro with an insolent face, was walking beside his team. His broad cart filled every inch of the track; it was impossible to pass it without climbing the bank. The judge, with his heavy wagon and one horse, could not do this; but it would have been easy for the mules to take their light cart up the slope, and thus leave room for the wagon. The old planter could not believe that he had heard aright. "Turn out, boy!" he repeated, with the imperious manner which only a lifetime of absolute authority can give. The negro brought his mules up until their noses touched the nose of the horse; then, putting his hands in his pockets, he planted himself, and called out, "W'at yer gwine ter do 'bout it?" In an instant the judge was on his feet, whip in hand. But Cicely touched him. "You are not going to fight with him, grandpa?" she said, in a low tone. "For he will fight; he isn't in the least afraid of you." The judge had now reached the ground. In his rage he was white, with his eyes blazing. Eve, greatly alarmed, clasped little Jack closer. Cicely jumped lightly down. "Grandpa," she said, under her breath, "he is a great deal stronger than you are, and after he has struck you down we shall be here alone with him--think of that. We will all get out, and then you can lead the horse up the bank, and go by him. Dear grandpa, it is the only way; this isn't the island, this is South Carolina."