Bill. "Dat's his very wustest chune!"--saying
which he dodged around the corner of the house.

Turning in from the lane at the yard gate, Colonel Calvin Blount and his
retinue rode close up to the side door of the plantation house; but even
here the master vouchsafed no salutation to those who awaited his
coming. He was a tall man, broad-shouldered, lean and muscular; yet so
far from being thin and dark, he was spare rather from physical exercise
than through gaunt habit of body; his complexion was ruddy and
sun-colored, and the long mustache hanging across his jaws showed a deep
mahogany-red. Western ranchman one might have called him, rather than
Southern planter. Scotch-Irish, generations back, perhaps, yet Southern
always, and by birthright American, he might have been a war-lord of
another land and day. No feudal baron ever dismounted with more
assuredness at his own hall, to toss careless rein to a retainer. He
stood now, tall and straight, a trifle rough-looking in his careless
planter's dress, but every inch the master. A slight frown puckered up
his forehead, giving to his face an added hint of sternness.

Colonel Blount busied himself with directions as to the horses and dogs.
The latter came straggling along in groups or pairs or singly, some of
them hobbling on three legs, many showing bitter wounds. The chase of
the great bear had proved stern pastime for them. Of half a hundred
hounds which had started, not two-thirds were back again, and many of
these would be unfit for days for the resumption of their savage trade.
None the less, as the master sounded again, loud and clear, the call for
the assembly, all the dogs about the place, young and old, homekeepers
and warriors, came pouring in with heads uplifted, each pealing out his
sweet and mournful music. Blount spoke to dozens of them, calling each
by its proper name.

In the confusion of the disbandment of the hunt, the master of the Big
House had as yet hardly had time to look about him, but now, as the
conclave scattered he found himself alone, and turning discovered the
occupant of the board-pile, who arose and advanced, offering his hand.

"This is Colonel Blount, I presume," said he.

"Yes, sir, that's my name. I beg your pardon, I'm sure, but I didn't
know you were there. Come right on into the house and sit down, sir.
Now, your name was--?"

"Eddring," said the new-comer. "John Eddring. I am just down on the
morning's train from the city."