CHAPTER XIII.
I STUMBLE INTO A GREAT FOLLY.
I never breathed a word about the night's doings, nor for divers reasons did Ringan; but the story got about, and the young fools were the laughing-stock of the place.

But there was a good deal of wrath, too, that a trader should have presumed so far, and I felt that things were gathering to a crisis with me.

Unless I was to suffer endlessly these petty vexations, I must find a bold stroke to end them.

It annoyed me that when so many grave issues were in the balance I should have these troubles, as if a man should be devoured by midges when waiting on a desperate combat.
The crisis came sooner than I looked for.

There was to be a great horse-racing at Middle Plantation the next Monday, which I had half a mind to attend, for, though I cared nothing for the sport, it would give me a chance of seeing some of our fellows from the York River.