This was said in so sad and regretful a tone, that, in spite of the serious manner of both the black and his master, I laughed heartily. When my merriment had somewhat subsided, I said:
'Joe, what would you do to mend this state of affairs?'
'It can't be mended if we stay in dis ole country, an' wuck 'cordin' to master Robert's notion.'
'Then you mean to say you can't apply humane principles to slave labor, in an old district of country, and make money?'
'Yes,' said Preston, rising and pacing up and down in the small semi-circle formed by the rosin barrels, 'that is what he means to say, and it is true.'
'Then how do the majority of turpentine planters in this section make money? They do make it, that is certain.'
'By overworking their hands, as Dawsey does. All may not be as severe with them as he is, but all overwork them, more or less,' replied Preston.
'I don't know 'bout dat, master Robert, twelve and eben firteen hour a day neber hurt a prime hand, if he hab good feed.
'Well, it is six o'clock, and supper must be in waiting,' said Preston, drawing out his watch; 'we'll talk more on this subject to-night. Joe, bring the books up to the house this evening. Mr. Kirke has promised to look into our affairs, and I shall need you.'
'Yas, master Robert,' replied the black; and, mounting the horses, Preston and I rode off to the mansion.