“Well, I reckon you didn’t,” said Pole, slightly mollified, “but it’s always a good idea fer two men to know exactly where they stand, and I’m here to say I don’t take off my hat to no man on earth.” “That’s the right spirit,” Duncan said admiringly. “Now, I’m ready if you are, and it’s time we were on the move. Those two valises are mine and that big overcoat tied in a bundle.” “Here, Charlie!” Pole called out to the porter, “put them things o’ Duncan’s in the back end o’ the buggy, an’ I’ll throw you a dime the next time I’m in town.” “All right, boss,” the mulatto said, with a knowing wink and smile at Mayhew. “They’ll be in by the time you get there.” While the planter was at the counter, saying good-bye to the clerk, Pole looked down at Mayhew. “When are _you_ goin’ out?” he asked. “In an hour or so,” answered the merchant as he spat into a cuspidor. “I’m waiting now for a turnout, and I’ve got some business to attend to.” “Collections to make, I’ll bet my hat,” Pole laughed. “I thought mighty few folks was out on Main Street jest now; they know you are abroad in the land an’ want to save the’r socks.” “Do you reckon that’s it, Pole?” said Mayhew as he spat again. “I thought maybe it was because they was afraid you’d paint the town, and wanted to keep their skins whole.” The clerk and the planter laughed. “He got you that time, Baker,” the latter said, with a smile. “I’ll acknowledge the corn,” and the mountaineer joined in the laugh good-naturedly. “To look at the old skinflint, settin’ half asleep all the time, a body wouldn’t think his tongue had any life to it. I’ve seed the dern thing wiggle before, but it was mostly when thar was a trade up.” CHAPTER II As they were driving into the country road, just beyond the straggling houses in the outskirts of the town, going toward the mountains, which lay along the western horizon like blue clouds nestling against the earth, the planter said: “I’ve seen you fishing and hunting with Mayhew’s young partner, Nelson Floyd. You and he are rather intimate, are you not?” “Jest about as friendly as two men can be,” said Pole, “when one’s rising in the world an’ t’other is eternally at a standstill, or goin’ down like a round rock on the side of a mountain. Or maybe, I ought to say, when one of ’em has had the pluck to educate hisself an’ t’other hardly knows B from a bull’s foot. I don’t know, Captain, why Nelson Floyd’s friendly to me. I like him beca’se he is a man from his toe-nails to the end o’ the longest hair on his head.” “I’ve heard a lot of good things about him,” remarked the planter, “and I understand, too, that he has his faults.”