"You will feel better when you are sober," I said, smiling at him. I could have sliced his heart and therefore I smiled--at the happy thought. "And I want to tell you one thing. I may be hanged one mile from the court-house, but this is the last time I am going to run from you." I turned to go, but he called me. "You have threatened me," he said, not raging, but with more of quiet than I could have expected, "and on my part it would be justice to take a gun and shoot you, but if you will agree to say nothing about this affair when you go to the house, I will swear never again to molest you. The truth is I've been drinking and am not myself." "I looked at it in another light, sir. I thought that the drink had given your true self a bold development." "God, but you can talk, you yellow--but I say, Dan, I mean what I say. Agree not to mention this affair and I'll always treat you civilly. I've had enough to spoil the temper of any man alive, but I'll hold it down so far as you are concerned. What do you say?" "I agree, sir." "All right. Now give me a drink out of that jug and I'll call it square." "No, this liquor is not for you; it is for the harvest hands; it isn't up to your grade." "Consideration or impudence, one of the other--but I'll let it pass. All right, now," he added, tightening his bridle-rein to ride away, "remember your part of the contract and I'll remember mine." Old Jason, at the head of the men in the field, censured me for passing so much time on the road, and old Steve, humorous rascal, gave a broad grin as he looked upon the whisky and swore that he didn't think that I had passed anything on the road; that everything had passed me. Old Master came walking up to the clump of alder bushes under which a number of the hands had gathered to "blow" in the shade, and after making a pretense of drinking with them, told me to walk to the house with him. With what envy the black men regarded me as I strode off beside the man who held their destiny in the hollow of his hand! Looking back I could see many a dark frown. Among the blacks the "yaller man" was never a favorite. An attempt to be refined and especially a smattering of learning invoked contempt from the sturdy yeoman of the negro quarter. "They are not so mighty fond of you," said Old Master as we walked along. His old eyes had caught the expression of their disfavor. "No, sir, and I am sorry, for I would give much for their good opinion." "I'm glad to hear you say that, my boy. It is a true proof of a gentlemanly instinct. The coarse-grained man holds himself above the opinion of those far below him, but a gentleman would value the good will of a dog. By the way, have you seen the doctor to-day?" "I think, sir, that I saw him in the road as I was coming from the distillery." It was some time before he spoke again, walking along with his gaze bent upon the ground. "Dan"--and he looked up at me, "do you remember the time you threw the tumbler on his head?"