many folks was willin’ to be slaves.  By hokey nettie! they had got used to it.  Kings an’ magistrates an’ slavery didn’t look so bad to ’em as they do now.  Our brains have changed—­that’s what’s the matter—­same as the soil has changed.  We want to be free like other folks in this country.  America has growed up around us but here we are livin’ back in old Holland three hundred years ago.  It don’t set good.  We see lots o’ people that don’t have to be slaves.  They own their land an’ they ain’t worked any harder than we have or been any more savin’.  That’s why I say we can’t pay the rents no more an’ ye mustn’t try to make us.  By hokey nettie!  You’ll have trouble if ye do.”

The truth had flashed upon me out of the words of this simple man.  Until then I had heard only one side of the case.  If I were to be the servant of justice, as Mr. Wright had advised, what was I to do?  These tenants had been Grimshawed and were being Grimshawed out of the just fruits of their toil by the feudal chief whose remote ancestor had been a king’s favorite.  For half a moment I watched the wavering needle of my compass and then: 

“If what you say is true I think you are right,” I said.

“I don’t agree with you,” said young Latour.  “The patroons have a clear title to this land.  If the tenants don’t want to pay the rents they ought to get out and make way for others.”

“Look here, young man, my name is Josiah Curtis,” said the stranger.  “I live in the first house on the right-hand side o’ the road.  You may tell the judge that I won’t pay rent no more—­not as long as I live—­and I won’t git out, either.”

“Mr. Latour, you and Purvis may go on slowly—­I’ll overtake you soon,” I said.

They went on and left me alone with Curtis.  He was getting excited and I wished to allay his fears.

“Don’t let him try to serve no writs or there’ll be hell to pay in this valley,” said Curtis.

“In that case I shall not try to serve the writs.  I don’t want to stir up the neighborhood, but I want to know the facts.  I shall try to see other tenants and report what they say.  It may lead to a settlement.”

We went on together to the top of the hill near which we had been standing.  Far ahead I saw a cloud of dust but no other sign of Latour and Purvis.  They must have spurred their horses into a run.  The fear came to me that Latour would try to serve the writs in spite of me.  They were in his pocket.  What a fool I had been not to call for them.  My companion saw the look of concern in my face.

“I don’t like that young feller,” said Curtis.  “He’s in fer trouble.”