There was a sound of heavy footsteps in the hall coming from the rear of the house, and presently a darker bulk appeared in the shadowed doorway. It was his principal overseer—a strong and superior negro, selected by his fellow-freedmen from among their number in accordance with Courtland's new regime.
“Did you come here from the plantation or the town?”
“The town, sah.”
“I think you had better keep out of the town in the evenings for the present,” said Courtland in a tone of quiet but positive authority.
“Are dey goin' to bring back de ole 'patter rollers,' * sah?” asked the man with a slight sneer.
* The “patrol” or local police who formerly had the
surveillance of slaves.
“I don't know,” returned Courtland calmly, ignoring his overseer's manner. “But if they did you must comply with the local regulations unless they conflict with the Federal laws, when you must appeal to the Federal authorities. I prefer you should avoid any trouble until you are sure.”
“I reckon they won't try any games on me,” said the negro with a short laugh.
Courtland looked at him intently.
“I thought as much! You're carrying arms, Cato! Hand them over.”