"How long will it take the hounds to get to Salem?" he asked the Custos
presently in his office, with deepset lines in his face and a determined
look in his eyes. He was an arrogant man, but he was not insane, and he
wished to succeed. It could only be success if he dragged Jamaica out of
this rebellion with flying colours, and his one possible weapon was the
man whom he detested.
"Why, your honour, as we sent them by wagons and good horses they should
be in Dyck Calhoun's hands this evening. They should be there by now
almost, for they've been going for hours, and the distance is not great."
The governor nodded, and began to write. A halfhour later he handed to
the Custos what he had written.
"See what you think of that, Custos," he said. "Does it, in your mind,
cover the ground as it should?"
The Custos read it all over slowly and carefully, weighing every word.
Presently he handed back the paper. "Your honour, it is complete and
masterly," he said. "It puts the crushing of the revolt into the hands
of Mr. Calhoun, and nothing could be wiser. He has the gifts of a
leader, and he will do the job with no mistake, and in a time of crisis
like this, that is essential.
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