“Mind your words, sir,” cries the fellow, and I saw by his manner that he was desperately anxious to gain time.  “I warn you I am steward of this estate by virtue of authority deputed to me by Sir Richard Cludde, the guardian appointed by the Court of Chancery.”

“Your stewardship and Sir Richard’s guardianship ended yesterday,” I said curtly.

“You mistake,” says he, beginning to recover himself, “I tell you again that this is an unwarrantable intrusion, and you stand there at your peril.”

“Stuff!” I cried impatiently. “’Tis you who are an intruder, a trespasser; you are in this house against the will of the owner, who is now of full age.  But I won’t bandy words with you about that.  You and I have other accounts to settle, Cyrus Vetch, and if you do not yield at once, I swear I will show you no mercy.”

I advanced towards the table, and Vetch lifted his sword as though to defend himself.  But his courage failed him, and indeed his was a hopeless case if it came to a tussle, as he very well knew.  Incontinently he dropped his sword point, and with a shrug of the shoulders, said: 

“I will not fight a couple of bullies.  I yield now, but let me tell you, Humphrey Bold, the law will have something to say to this.”

“It will indeed,” I said grimly.  “Hand over your sword.”

He took it by the blade; I placed my musket against the table and reached forward to take the hilt, but with a sudden swift movement he swept the candles to the floor and the room was in total darkness.  I sprang forward, but before I could vault over the obstructing table Vetch had dashed through a door behind him that opened on to the veranda.  I was after him in an instant, and he escaped me by no more than an arm’s length.  He had leapt over the rail of the veranda, and I halted for a moment, supposing that he must at least twist his ankles after a fall of some fifteen feet.  But I was amazed to see him swarming down one of the pillars that supported the veranda.

I followed him in desperate haste, but the fellow was always very light and nimble, and the fear of death lent him a marvelous new agility.  My heavier frame was slower in descending; yet I could not have been much more than fifteen seconds behind him; but he had vanished.  There were bushes and palms growing to within a few feet of the house.  I ran among them, but could not hear his footsteps, nor had I any means of judging of the direction of his flight.  Mad with disappointment, I rushed blindly on, and in a moment collided with a man, whom seizing, I knew by the howl he emitted, no less than by the feel of his bare skin, that I had laid hands on a negro.

“Which way did he run?” I cried, shaking the man in my hot impatience.

“Oh, Massa, I dunno nuffin’,” said the trembling wretch.

I hurled him aside and sped off again, very soon encountering other negroes, who in spite of their dread of the dark, had been drawn from their huts, I doubt not, by the noise of the altercation.