As it was Thursday, the Council met that morning, and some questions of moment to the colony were to be brought up for consideration. The question of the dog-tax was one which perplexed Sir Charles most particularly. The two Councillors elected by the people and the three appointed by the crown had disagreed as to this tax. Of the five hundred British subjects at the seaport, all but ten were owners of dogs, and it had occurred to Sassoon, the chemist, that a tax of half-a-crown a year on each of these dogs would meet the expense of extending the oyster-shell road to the new cricket-grounds. To this Snellgrove, who held the contract for the narrow-gauge railroad, agreed; but the three crown Councillors opposed the tax vigorously, on the ground that as scavengers alone the dogs were a boon to the colony and should be encouraged. The fact that each of these gentlemen owned not only one, but several dogs of high pedigree made their position one of great delicacy.
There was no way by which the Governor could test the popular will in the matter, except through his secretary, Mr. Clarges, who, at the cricket-match between the local eleven and the officers and crew of H. M. S. Partridge, had been informed by the other owners of several fox-terriers that, in their opinion, the tax was a piece of “condemned tommy-rot.” From this the Governor judged that it would not prove a popular measure. As he paced the veranda, drawing deliberately on his cigar, and considering to which party he should give the weight of his final support, his thoughts were disturbed by the approach of a stranger, who advanced along the gravel walk, guarded on either side by one of the local constabulary. The stranger was young and of poor appearance. His bare feet were bound in a pair of the rope sandals worn by the natives, his clothing was of torn and soiled drill, and he fanned his face nonchalantly with a sombrero of battered and shapeless felt.
Sir Charles halted in his walk, and holding his cigar behind his back, addressed himself to the sergeant.
“A vagrant?” he asked.
The words seemed to bear some amusing significance to the stranger, for his face lit instantly with a sweet and charming smile, and while he turned to hear the sergeant’s reply, he regarded him with a kindly and affectionate interest.
“Yes, your Excellency.”
The Governor turned to the prisoner.
“Do you know the law of this colony regarding vagrants?”
“I do not,” the young man answered. His tone was politely curious, and suggested that he would like to be further informed as to the local peculiarities of a foreign country.
“After two weeks’ residence,” the Governor recited, impressively, “all able-bodied persons who will not work are put to work or deported. Have you made any effort to find work?”