Derek tightened his belt and took a bee-line down over the slippery grass.

He meant to reach the cottage of the laborer Tryst before that early bird was away to the fields.

He meditated as he went.

Bob Tryst was all right! If they only had a dozen or two like him! A dozen or two whom they could trust, and who would trust each other and stand firm to form the nucleus of a strike, which could be timed for hay harvest.

What slaves these laborers still were! If only they could be relied on, if only they would stand together! Slavery! It WAS slavery; so long as they could be turned out of their homes at will in this fashion.