y ten minutes!

We scattered at last to our various occupations. I was too much upset to
work, so I returned to where Yank was smoking over the fire. He had, as
near as I can remember, said not one word since the discovery of the
tragedy. On my approach he took his pipe from his mouth.

"Nothing done?" he inquired.

"Nothing," I replied. "What is there to be done?"

"Don't know," said he, replacing his pipe; then around the stem of it,
"I was fond of those people."

"So was I," I agreed sincerely. "Have you thought what a lucky escape
you yourself had?"

Yank nodded. We sat for a long time in silence. My thoughts turned
slowly and sullenly in a heavy, impotent anger. A small bird chirped
plaintively from the thicket near at hand. Except for the tinkle of our
little stream and the muffled roar of the distant river, this was the
only sound to strike across the dead black silence of the autumn night.
So persistently did the bird utter its single call that at last it
aroused even my downcast attention, so that I remarked on it carelessly
to Yank. He came out of his brown study and raised his head.

"It's no bird, it's a human," he said, after listening a moment. "That's
a signal. Go see what it is. Just wander out carelessly."

In the depths of the thicket I found a human figure crouched. It glided
to me, and I made out dimly the squat form of Pete, Barnes's negro
slave, from the hotel.

"Lo'_dee_, massa," whispered he, "done thought you nevah
_would_ come."

"What is it, Pete?" I asked in the same guarded tones.

"I done got somefin' to tell you. While I ketchin' a lil' bit of sleep
'longside that white trash Mo'ton's place, I done heah dey all plannin'
to git out warrant for to arres' Massa Fairfax and Massa Pine and Massa
Ma'sh for a-killin' dem men las' week; and I heah dem say dey gwine fer
to gib dem trial, and if dey fight dey gwine done shoot 'em."

"That _is_ serious news, Pete," said I. "Who were talking?" But
Pete, who was already frightened half to death, grew suddenly cautious.

"I don' jest rightly know, sah," he said sullenly. "I couldn't tell.
Jes' Massa Mo'ton. He say he gwine sw'ar in good big posse."

"I can believe that," said I thoughtfully. "Pete," I turned on him
suddenly, "don't you know they'd skin you alive if they found out you'd
been here?"

Pete was shaking violently, and at my words a strong shudder went
through his frame, and his teeth struck faintly together.

"Why did you