Had I been less in earnest, or less puzzled as to the real situation, I would have laughed at the expression upon the man's face. With hat pulled over his eyes, he sat stiff, staring at me, his fingers twitching nervously, unable to determine just the species confronting him. I made no display of a weapon; he could not be sure that I was armed, yet my right hand was hidden in the side pocket of my coat. I could read the doubt, the indecision in his mind, as plainly as though expressed in words. The brute and the coward struggled for mastery.
"I 've told you the truth about who we are, and our purpose in coming here," I went on slowly and clearly, "because I have decided to fight in the open. Now I want to know who you are? What authority you have on the Henley plantation? Speak up!"
The reply came reluctantly, but there must have been a sternness in my face which compelled an answer.
"I told yer—I 'm the overseer."
"A fine specimen, from the looks of the place; what was you ordered to grow—weeds?"
"Thet 's none o' your business."
"It 's the business of the lady upstairs, Coombs, and I am representing her at present. It will be just as well for you to be civil. Who appointed you to this position—the administrators?"
"I reckon not."
"Ever hear of a man named Neale, P. B. Neale?"
"No."