oads upon the bacon and waffles, an old
acquaintance--Mr. Ned Hunter.

"Mr. Hunter, good-evening."

"Hey--what--the Devil! Good-evening to you, Mr. Rand. So, after all,
your party, sir, didn't hang Colonel Burr!"

The two ate supper with the long table between them, and with no great
amiability of feeling in presence. The Republican was the first to end
the meal, and the Federalist answered his short bow with an even more
abbreviated salute. Rand went out into the porch, where there were now
only one or two lounging figures, and sat down at the head of the
steps. Mr. Hunter came presently, too, into the air, and leaned against
the railing, whistling to the dogs in the yard.

"You are going on in the morning, Mr. Rand?"

"Yes. At dawn."

"You'll be in Charlottesville, then, by two o'clock. Earlier, if you
take the river road."

"I shall take the river road."

"It is broken riding, but it is the quickest way. Well, I won't be many
hours behind you! My humble regards, if you please, to Mrs. Rand.
There's nothing now at Fontenoy but wedding talk. I am sure I hope Miss
Dandridge may be happy! Here, Di! here, Rover! here, Vixen!"

Rand arose. "I've had a long day and I make an early start. Good-night
to you, gentlemen!"

When, in the morning, Young Isham came to his door with the first light,
the boy found his master already up and partly dressed. Rand stood by
the window looking out at the pink sky. "A bad night, Young Isham," he
said, without turning. "Sleep's a commodity that has somehow run short
with me. Are the horses ready?"

"Yaas, marster."

"Have you had your breakfast?"

"Yaas, marster."

"Help me here, then, and let's away. Roselands by one!"

Young Isham held the gilt-buttoned waistcoat, then took from the dresser
the extravagant neckcloth of the period, and wound it with care around
his master's throat. Rand knotted the muslin in front, put on his green
riding-coat, and took from the dresser his watch and seals. "Bah!
there's a chill in these September dawns! Close the portmanteau. Where
did you put the holsters?"

"Dar dey is, sah, under yo' han'."

The boy, on his knees, worked at the straps of the portmanteau. Rand,
waiting for him to finish, drew out a pistol from its leather case,
looked it over and replaced it, then did the same with its fellow. "Are
you done?" he said at last. "Bring everything and come on. I'll swallow
a cup of coffee and then we'll be gone. We should pass Malplaqu