on the 'Mister' was too much for
the trader, and taking one spring toward the darky, he laid his stout
whip across his face. The scented ebony roared, and just then his horse,
a high-blooded animal, reared and threw him. When he had gathered
himself up, Larkin made several warm applications of his thick boot to
the inexpressible part of the darky's person, and, roaring with pain,
that personage made off at a gait faster than that of his runaway horse.

During the affray the occupants of the ground gathered around the
belligerents; but as soon as it was over, they went quietly back to
'old-sledge' 'seven-up,' 'pitch-and-toss,' 'chuck-a-luck,' and the
'turkey match.'

As we walked toward the shanty, the trader said: 'Thet feller's a fool.
What a chance he's throwin' away! He arn't of no more use than a rotten
coon skin or a dead herrin', he arn't. All on our young bucks is jest
like him. The country's going to the devil, sure;' and with this choice
bit of moralizing, he entered the cabin.

CHAPTER VI.

The Squire was pacing to and fro in the upper end of the room, and the
woman and children were seated on the low bench near the counter.
Phyllis lifted her eyes to my face as I entered, with a hopeful,
inquiring expression, but they fell again when the trader said: 'Thet's
the gal fur ye, Mr. Kirke; the most perfectest gal in seven States; good
at onything, washin', ironin', nussin', breedin'; rig'larly fotched up;
worth her weight in gold; d----d if she haint.' Turning then to Preston,
he exclaimed: 'Why, Squire, how ar ye?'

'Very well,' replied my friend, coolly.

'How's times?' continued the trader.

'Very well,' said Preston, in a tone which showed a decided distaste for
conversation.

'Well, glad on it. I heerd ye were hard put. Glad on it, Squire.'

The Squire took no further notice of him; and, turning to his property,
the trader said: 'Stand up, gal, and let me show the gentleman what yer
made of. Doan't look so down in the mouth, gal; this gentleman's got a
friend thet'll keep ye in the style ye's fotched up ter.'

Phyllis rose and made a strong effort to appear composed.

'Now, Mr. Kirke, luk at thet rig,' said Larkin, seizing her rudely by
the arm and turning her half around; 'straight's a rail. Luk at thet
ankle and fut--nimble's a squirrel, and healthy!--why, ye couldn't
sicken har if ye put har ter hosspetal work.'

'Well, never mind. I see what she is. What's your price?'

'But ye haint see