"An' ol' mammy, she's a-looking at the tea grounds in a cup."
"What she say?"
"She don' say nothing." He paused to give his words effect. "She got a
rabbit foot."
"Oh, Lor'!" The negro glanced fearfully about them. "Oh, Lor'!" he
repeated. "Oh, Lor'! Oh, Lor'!" It had become a wail of terror now, a wail
so piteous and so moving that Tom felt as though an icy cold hand had
reached out for him, taking away all his strength. The stark trees of the
lonely, shadow-infested woods seemed to press in upon them like an army of
fantastic giants. The fear which was torturing the negroes came over him in
a spasm, then passed away.
"What's the trouble there?" he demanded sharply.
The negroes gasped audibly. "Nothin'," answered one of them presently. It
was the negro who had been talking about Murdock's dogs and the rabbit's
foot.
"What are you getting scared about?"
"Nothin'," came the muttered response.
"Then don't lose your heads," replied Tom. He sat upright and sagged
forward weakly. The strength seemed to flow suddenly from his body; his
legs and arms felt flabby and useless. "Whew!" he exclaimed. "I'll have to
do better than this. Weak as a baby!" Bracing himself on one arm, he flexed
the other slowly. The negroes watched him.
"Oh, Lor'!" wailed the older negro again.
"Shut up!" said Tom.
"O Lor'--der's horses on de road! Now der a-coming!"
Tom listened and heard a faint clatter of hoofs, growing louder and louder.
It stopped for a moment as the horsemen pulled up to round the bend into
the Beecham's farm. Then a man yelled, "Hey, Beecham! Beecham! Hey,
Beecham! Come down for a minute. This is Kirby talking. We're on a Yank
hunt. Want you to help." There came a muffled response from the house, the
yelling ceased and the night was quiet again.
Tom found himself on his feet, without knowing how he managed to get up. He
was clinging to the trunk of a tree for support. "Here, you," he said to
the negroes. "They're after me. Take these blankets and get back to your
huts. If they catch me they won't catch me here." Whimpering, the negroes
scooped up the blankets.
"Wait!" ordered Tom. "How about these clothes? Where're mine? If I'm caught
in these things...." The negroes collected his clothes, which had been
spread out to dry, and he changed rapidly. "Take everything and get back as
quickly as you can. Come just as soon as it's daylight to be sure you
haven't left anything. Tell Miss Marjorie that I've gone...."
They jumped at the crackling of some underbrush near them. It was Marjorie.