"If so he is headed in the wrong direction," I replied; but I drew back from my weapon nevertheless, and an instant later regretted having done so when Sandy Wells, one of the sheriff's officers, rode up beside us.
"We are well met, young sirs," he said in a mocking tone as he drew from his pocket two folded papers. "I was but this moment counting the miles 'twixt me and your homes, for if I mistake not you are Clare Butler," he said looking at me, and, turning toward my comrade, added, "You are Sidney Hubbard."
It was useless to deny the fact, since Sandy knew our faces full well, and I asked, steadying my voice till it sounded reasonably firm:
"What have we two lads to do with so gallant an officer as you, sir?"
"Nothing whatsoever, if it so be you have paid the poll tax which his worshipful excellency has levied on all males, white or black, between the ages of sixteen and sixty."
"You must know we have not paid that extortion to provide the governor with a palace, for it is hardly more than six weeks since a levy was made of two shillings to the acre of all tilled lands, and we, who owned not a single rod, were forced to help our fathers pay that," I said stoutly, noting the fact that Sidney was drawing his rifle toward him.
"Then must I serve these warrants to the end that I may legally take you to Hillsborough until such time as you shall pay the just and lawful demands of his worshipful excellency, Governor Tryon."
"And how may we come by the money while we are shut up in jail?" I asked, beginning to have an inkling of what Sidney would do.
"That is not for me to say, my pert gentleman. If you cannot pay the tax, here is my authority for taking you to Hillsborough," and the conceited rascal proceeded to read in a loud voice the documents he had drawn from his pocket.
I could understand but little of their purport, so filled were they with attorney's words and phrases, nor did I cudgel my brains overmuch, because of what I could see out of the tail of my eye.