The following day was appointed for a settlement of the annual contract with the negroes. The Agent of the Freedman’s Bureau was the judge before whom the General, his overseer, and clerk of account, and all the negroes assembled. If the devil himself had devised an instrument for creating race antagonism and strife he could not have improved on this Bureau in its actual workings. Had clean handed, competent agents been possible it might have accomplished good. These agents were as a rule the riff-raff and trash of the North. It was the supreme opportunity of army cooks, teamsters, fakirs, and broken down preachers who had turned insurance agents. They were lifted from penury to affluence and power. The possibility of corruption and downright theft were practically limitless. The Agent at Hambright had been a preacher in Michigan who lost his church because of unsavory rumours about his character. He had eked out a living as a book agent, and then insurance agent. He was a man of some education and had a glib tongue which the negroes readily mistook for inspired eloquence. He assumed great dignity and an extraordinary judicial tone of voice when adjusting accounts. General Worth submitted his accounts and they showed that all but six of the fifty negroes employed had a little overdrawn their wages in provisions and clothing. “I think there is a mistake, General, in these accounts,” said the Rev. Ezra Perkins the Agent. “What?” thundered the General. “A mistake in your view of the contracts,” answered Ezra in his oiliest tone. The negroes began to grin and nudge one another, amid exclamations of “Dar now!” “Hear dat!” “What do you mean? The contracts are plain. There can be but one interpretation. I agreed to furnish the men their supplies in advance and wait until the end of the year for adjustment after the crops were gathered. As it is, I will lose over five hundred dollars on the farm.” The General paused and looked at the Agent with rising wrath. “It’s useless to talk. I decide that under this contract you are to furnish supplies yourself and pay your people their monthly wages besides. I have figured it out that you owe them a little over fifteen hundred dollars.” “Fifteen hundred dollars! You thief!”---- “Softly, softly!--I’ll commit you for contempt of court!” The General turned on his heel without a word, sprang on his horse, and in a few minutes alighted at the hotel. He encountered the assistant agent of the Bureau on the steps. [Illustration: 0097] “Did you wish to see me, General?” he asked. “No! I’m looking for a man--a Union soldier not a turkey buzzard!” He dashed up to the clerk’s desk. “Is Major Grant in his room?” “Yes, sir.” “Tell him I want to see him.” “What can I do for you, General Worth?” asked the Major as he hastened to meet him.