And his fears were soon confirmed. Within a month the Independence Observer contained a dispatch from Washington announcing the appointment of Allan McLeod a Deputy United States Marshal for the District of Western North Carolina, together with the information that he had renounced his allegiance to his old disloyal associates, and had become an enthusiastic Republican; and that henceforth he would labour with might and main to establish peace and further the industrial progress of the South. “I knew it. The dirty whelp!” cried the Preacher, as he showed the paper to his wife. “Now don’t be too hard on the boy, Doctor Durham,” urged his wife. “He may be sincere in his change of politics. You never did like him.” “Sincere! yes, as the devil is always sincere. He’s dead in earnest now. He’s found his level, and his success is sure. Mark my words the boy’s a villain from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet. He has bartered his soul to save his skin, and the skin is all that’s left.” “I’m sorry to think it. I couldn’t help liking him.” “And that’s the funniest freak I ever knew your fancy to take, my dear,--I never could understand it.” When McLeod had established his office in Hambright, he made special efforts to allay the suspicions against his name. His indignant denials of the report of his treachery convinced many that he had been wronged. Two men alone, maintained toward him an attitude of contempt, Major Dameron and the Preacher. He called on Mrs. Durham, and with his smooth tongue convinced her that he had been foully slandered. She urged him to win the Doctor. Accordingly he called to talk the question over with the Preacher and ask him for a fair chance to build his character untarnished in the community. The Preacher heard him through patiently, but in silence. Allan was perspiring before he reached the end of his plausible explanation. It was a tougher task than he thought, this deliberate lying, under the gaze of those glowing black eyes that looked out from their shaggy brows and pierced through his inmost soul. “You’ve got an oily tongue. It will carry you a long way in this world. I can’t help admiring the skill with which you are fast learning to use it. You’ve fooled Mrs. Durham with it, but you can’t fool me,” said the Preacher. “Doctor, I solemnly swear to you I am not guilty.” “It’s no use to add perjury to plain lying. I know you did it. I know it as well as if I were present in that jail and heard you basely betray the men, name by name, whom you had lured to their ruin.” “Doctor, I swear you are mistaken!”