ating himself on his
shrewdness--"you left Paris for political reasons?"

The stranger deliberately emptied his pipe and thrust it into his
pocket, while the landlord impatiently awaited the response to his
pointed query. When it came, however, it was not calculated to allay
the curiosity of his questioner.

"Is it your practice," said the young man coldly, in slow but
excellent English, "to bark continuously at the heels of your
guests?"

"Oh, no offense meant! No offense! Hope none'll be taken," stammered
the landlord.

Then he recovered himself and his dignity by drawing forth a huge
wine-colored silk handkerchief, set with white polka-dots, and
ostentatiously and vigorously using it. This ear-splitting operation
having once more set him up in his own esteem, he resumed his
attentions to the stranger.

"I didn't know," he added with an outburst of honesty, "but what you
might be some nobleman in disguise."

"A nobleman!" said the other with ill-concealed contempt. "My name is
Saint-Prosper; plain Ernest Saint-Prosper. I was a soldier. Now I'm an
adventurer. There you have it all in a nut-shell."

The inn-keeper surveyed his guest's figure with undisguised
admiration.

"Well, you look like a soldier," he remarked. "You are like one
of those soldiers who came over from France to help us in the
Revolution."

This tribute being silently accepted, the landlord grew voluble as his
guest continued reserved.

"We have our own troubles with lords, too, right here in New York
State," he said confidentially. "We have our land barons, descendants
of the patroons and holders of thousands of acres. And we have our
bolters, too, who are making a big stand against feudalism."

Thereupon he proceeded to present the subject in all its details to
the soldier; how the tenants were protesting against the enforcement
of what they now deemed unjust claims and were demanding the abolition
of permanent leaseholds; how they openly resisted the collection of
rents and had inaugurated an aggressive anti-rent war against
tyrannical landlordism. His lengthy and rambling dissertation was
finally broken in upon by a rumbling on the road, as of carriage
wheels drawing near, and the sound of voices. The noise sent the
boniface to the window, and, looking out, he discovered a lumbering
coach, drawn by two heavy horses, which came dashing up with a great
semblance of animation for a vehicle of its weight, followed by a
wagon, loaded wi