think I'll risk it," I answered.

"Well, suh," said Julius, "I wushes you much joy er yo' job. Ef you has
bad luck er sickness er trouble er any kin', doan blame _me_. You can't
say ole Julius did n' wa'n you."

"Warn him of what, Uncle Julius?" asked my wife.

"Er de bad luck w'at follers folks w'at 'sturbs dat trac' er Ian'. Dey
is snakes en sco'pions in dem woods. En ef you manages ter 'scape de
p'isen animals, you is des boun' ter hab a ha'nt ter settle wid,--ef you
doan hab two."

"Whose haunt?" my wife demanded, with growing interest.

"De gray wolf's ha'nt, some folks calls it,--but I knows better."

"Tell us about it, Uncle Julius," said my wife. "A story will be a
godsend to-day."

It was not difficult to induce the old man to tell a story, if he were
in a reminiscent mood. Of tales of the old slavery days he seemed indeed
to possess an exhaustless store,--some weirdly grotesque, some broadly
humorous; some bearing the stamp of truth, faint, perhaps, but still
discernible; others palpable inventions, whether his own or not we never
knew, though his fancy doubtless embellished them. But even the wildest
was not without an element of pathos,--the tragedy, it might be, of the
story itself; the shadow, never absent, of slavery and of ignorance; the
sadness, always, of life as seen by the fading light of an old man's
memory.

"Way back yander befo' de wah," began Julius, "ole Mars Dugal' McAdoo
useter own a nigger name' Dan. Dan wuz big en strong en hearty en
peaceable en good-nachu'd most er de time, but dange'ous ter aggervate.
He alluz done his task, en nebber had no trouble wid de w'ite folks, but
woe be unter de nigger w'at 'lowed he c'd fool wid Dan, fer he wuz mos'
sho' ter git a good lammin'. Soon ez eve'ybody foun' Dan out, dey did
n' many un 'em 'temp' ter 'sturb 'im. De one dat did would 'a' wush' he
had n', ef he could 'a' libbed long ernuff ter do any wushin'.

"It all happen' dis erway. Dey wuz a cunjuh man w'at libbed ober t'
other side er de Lumbe'ton Road. He had be'n de only cunjuh doctor in de
naberhood fer lo! dese many yeahs, 'tel ole Aun' Peggy sot up in de
bizness down by de Wim'l'ton Road. Dis cunjuh man had a son w'at libbed
wid 'im, en it wuz dis yer son w'at got mix' up wid Dan,--en all 'bout a
'oman.

"Dey wuz a gal on de plantation name' Mahaly. She wuz a monst'us lackly
gal,--tall en soopl', wid big eyes, en a small foot, en a lively tongue,
en w'en Dan tuk ter gwine wid 'e