pride in the quality of the meal ground at Taylor's Mill. But the hub factory was down-to-date. Major Robert Taylor never let a labor-saving device escape him. His hubs had as good a reputation as his corn meal. No longer did they depend upon the little river to bring logs to the factory as the neighboring forests had been denuded, but a spur of the main railroad came to the door of the building and a shuttle engine puffed back and forth hauling up logs and taking off the finished hubs.
Major Taylor was considered a just man to work for, although a bit stern and uncompromising. He had a sharp tongue that made him feared by his employees, although there were times when his heart had been discovered to be kind enough. The colored hands liked him better than the white ones.
"Ol' Marse Bob, he done made me feel lak mo' kinds er monkeys than ever got in No's Awk," said Silas Johnson, who had charge of the mill, known to the whole county as "Brer Johnson." "But it don't make no min' to me. The bigger monkey he makes er me the mo' he does for my po* oY Pearly Gates."
"Ain't it the truf?" answered his companion and assistant, Buck Jourdan.
"It looks ter me lak Marse Bob done got
