The boy put on his jacket and went away with Rivers, who asked presently what was this about.  “Mr. Rivers, soon after I came that fellow was rough to Leila; I hit him, and he beat me like—­like a dog.”

“And you let all these suns go down upon your wrath?”

“There wasn’t any wrath, sir.  He wouldn’t apologize to Leila; he wouldn’t do it.”

“Oh! indeed.”

“Then he said something to-day about Uncle Jim.”

“Anything else?”

“Yes, he made it pretty clear that he thought me a liar.”

“Well, but you knew you were not.”

“Yes, sir, but he didn’t appear to know.”

“Do you think you convinced him?”

“No, sir, but I feel better.”

“Ah! is that so?  Morally better, John?” and he laughed as he bade him good-bye.

The lad who left him was tired, but entirely satisfied with John
Penhallow.  He went to the stable and had a technical talk with the
English groom, who deeply regretted not to have seen the fight.

There being no riding or swimming to fill the time, he took a net, some tackle and a bucket, and went down to the river and netted a “hellbender.”  He put him in a bucket of water and carried him to the stable, where he was visited by Leila and Rivers, and later departed this life, much lamented.  In the afternoon, being in a happy mood, John easily persuaded Leila to abandon her ride, and walk with him.

When they sat down beside the Indian graves, to his surprise she suddenly shifted the talk and said, “John, who would you vote for?  I asked Aunt Ann, and she said, ‘Buchanan, of course’; and when I asked Uncle Jim, he said, ‘Fremont’; but I want to understand.  I saw in the paper that it was wicked to keep slaves, but my cousins in Maryland have slaves; it can’t be wicked.”

“Would you like to be bought and sold?” he said.

“But, I am not black, John.”

“I believe old Josiah was a slave.”

“Every one knows that.  Why did he run away, John?”

“Because he wanted to be free, I suppose, and not have to work without pay.”

“And don’t they pay slaves?” asked Leila.

“No, they don’t.”  John felt unable to make clear to her why the two people they respected and loved never discussed what the village talked about so freely.  These intelligent children were in the toils of a question which was disturbing the consciences and the interests of a continent.  The simpler side was clear to both of them.  The idea of selling the industrious old barber was as yet enough to settle their politics.

“Aunt Ann must have good reasons,” said John.  “Mr. Rivers says she is the most just woman he ever knew.”  It puzzled him.  “I suppose we are too young to understand.”

“Aunt Ann will never talk about slaves.  I asked her last week.”

“But Uncle Jim will talk, and he likes to be asked when we are alone.  I don’t believe in slavery.”