It took not five minutes to sell the sobbing slaves, the tavern-keeper buying Sukey for the sum of forty-one pounds, and the clergyman announcing himself at the end of the bidding as the purchaser of Peg for thirty-nine pounds, six.

Then amidst a silence which told of the interest of the crowd, the auctioneer read out a description of the bounds and acreage of Greenwood, and asked for bids.

"Nine thousand pounds," instantly offered Bagby.

"Five hunded more," rejoined Hennion.

"Ten thousand," snapped Joe.

"Five hunded more," snarled his rival bidder.

"Eleven thousand," came Joe's counter bid.

"Thirteen thousand."

"And five hundred."

"Fifteen thousand."

Bagby hesitated, scowling, then said, "Sixteen thousand."

"Seventeen."

"Seventeen, five."

"Yer might ez waal quit, Joe," interjected Squire Hennion.

"I hez more 'n' yer hev, an' I intends ter buy it. Nineteen my bid, pa'son."

"Twenty," burst out Joe, malignantly.

"Twenty-one."

"Twenty-five."

Hennion's face in turn grew red with anger, and he half rose, his fist clinched, but recollecting himself he resumed his seat.

"Going at twenty-five," announced McClave. "Will any one give more?"

A breathless pause came, while Bagby's countenance a.s.sumed a look of sudden anxiety. "I did n't say twenty-five," he quickly denied; "I said twenty-two."

A wave of contradiction swept through the hall.

Nothing daunted, the honourable Joseph repeated his a.s.sertion.

"He, he, he!" chuckled Hennion, "thet comes of biddin'

more money than yers hev."

"We'll call it twenty-two thousand," said McClave, "since Mr. Bagby persists. Will you give any more?"

"One hunded more," said Hennion; and n.o.body offering above him, it was knocked down at that price.

As the sale was declared completed, Bagby rose. "At least, I made you pay double for it," he growled spitefully to his compet.i.tor.

"Yer did, consarn yer," was Hennion's reply; but then a smile succeeded the angry look on the shrewd face. "I did n't pay more 'n a third of what 't is wuth, then."

"'T will be a dear buy, that I warn you," retorted Joseph, angrily. "I'll pay you off yet for bidding me out of it."

"Yer be keerful what yer do, or I'll do some payin' off myself,"

warned Hennion.

Brereton, who had stayed through the sale, with a contemptous shrug of the shoulders, walked over to the ordinary. Here he ate a silent supper, and then mounting his horse set off on his evening ride back to his regiment.

Half-way between Brunswick and Greenwood, while his thoughts were dwelling on the day's doings, and on what effect it would have on those far away in the mountains of Virginia, he was brought back to the present by hearing his name called in a low voice from behind a wall.

"Who 's that?" he demanded, halting his horse.

"Are you alone?"

"Yes," replied the officer, as he drew out a pistol from the holster.

"No occasion for that, colonel," said Joe Bagby's unmistakable accents, as the man climbed over the stones and came forward. "It's me," he announced. "Just walk your horse slow, so I can keep beside you, for I've something to tell you, and I don't want to stand still here in the road."

"Well, what is it?" questioned Brereton, as he started his horse walking.

"I rather guess you came to town on business, did n't you?"

"Perhaps."

"Might be something to do with the sale of Greenwood."

"Possibly."

"But more likely 't was something to do with public matters?"

"Well?"

"What would you give to catch them as was concerned in the killing of the post-riders?"

Not a motion or sound did Jack give to betray himself.

"That lies outside of my work," he said. "'T is the business of the secret service."

"Do you mean that, if I can put you in the way of laying hands on the whole gang, you won't do it?"

"If you choose to tell me what you know, I'll report it, for what it 's worth, to headquarters, and General Washington will take such actions as he judges fit."

"There won't be time for that," a.s.serted Joe. "It's to-morrow the thing 's to be played."

"What thing?"