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 come, Giles; sooner than I expected, it is true, but none the less welcome!" The black face, but a moment before so sunk in dejection, began to beam, the rich voice to choke with an emotion inspired of his words. "Hayti—Hayti—how little you realize that your deliverance is at hand!"

Giles, powerfully stirred, looked up with glowing eyes. He felt that he had been caught up in the wheels of destiny, carried along by the juggernaut of history. He was very young; also, one could scarcely blame him for being stirred in the presence of that great vitality, rich, inspiring voice, powerful emotion. Yet his British practicality did not desert him.

"Are you ready, Aristide?" he asked eagerly. The exultation on the face of the negro vanished as though flicked away; a beam thrown from a mirror. A look almost of vexation replaced it.

"My patron will not have been idle, nor my agent. It is to them that I am to look for the active preparations of the campaign."

"But you can't leave it all to other people!" cried Giles. "Gad, how I envy you! Think of what is ahead in the way of organization and equipping and collecting your staff and your cabinet and all the rest of it; then there are the foreign relations to consider, and the projection of matters of policy and diplomacy and municipal and civil affairs! Jove, how I wish that I could have a hand in it, Aristide!" He looked wistfully at the Haytian. "Couldn't you—eh—couldn't you take me on in some way?"

Dessalines' face lighted suddenly, then as quickly grew somber. 144