The Voice of the People

led to what was known in the neighbourhood as the Old Stage Road. Passing a straggling group of negro cabins, it stretched, naked, bleached, and barren, for a good half-mile, dividi

abruptly into clay of vivid red, which, extending a dozen yards up the rain-washed hillside, appeared, i

e western horizon, standing a gloomy advance guard of the shadows of the night. At its foot the newer green of the late spring

es beside the way. From the ditch on the left a brown toad hopped slowly into the dust of the road. On the worm-eaten rail

ssile fell harmlessly into the wheat field beyond, startling a blackbird with scarlet marks, which soared suddenly

yond the jagged line of the forest, was silhouetted sharply against the enkindled clouds. Suddenly, from the shadows of the long road, a voice rose plaintively. It was rich and deep and colourific, and it seemed to hover close to the warmth of the earth, weighed down by its animal melody. It had

rk hit ca

de-

k hit cam

de-

ole No

d his han

i-fice

e-hi

ide, a staff in his hand and a bag of meal on his shoulder. In the vivid light of the sunset his stature was exaggerated in si

firmly in the soil, shifting his bag from side to side

mid flam

Jehovah

l thunde

e-hi

. The old man lowered the bag from

. "Ain't I done tell you dar ai

boy. "It's Nick Burr. I heard

erin' en a-stealin' up on er ole

didn't mean to scar

ound dese parts? What I gwine ter be skeered fer uv er little no 'count white

side him. For a time the old man muttered angrily beneath his breath, and then, becoming

ers dese days, nohow. Dey ain' no manners en dey ain' no nuttin'. De niggers, dey is

las, who flinched

Miss, she des' pint out der place en dey stay dar. She ain' never stomach noner der high-ferlutin' doin's roun' her. She know whar she b'long en she know whar dey b

and shifte

ouldn't er been no slue-footed Yankees a-foolin' ro

ees slue-foot

n' never knowed yit what 'twuz dey fit about. Hit wuz des' a-hidin' en a-teckin' ter de bushes, en a-hidin' agin, en den a-feastin', en a-curtsin' ter de Yankees. Dar wan't no sense in it, no ways hits put, but Ise heered Marse Tom 'low hit wuz a civil war, en dat's what it

consolation in the thought that the awful "Ole Miss" was below

the jagged pines and went out in the dove-coloured clouds. In a huge oak beyond the rai

s' de spit er her ma, en it 'ud mek Ole Miss tu'n in her grave ter hear tell 'bout her gwines on. De quality en de po' folks is all de same

d?" asked Nicholas

rned upon hi

hile bad? I don't reckon it's dese yer new come folk

gsborough, and they fell to one side of the road, leaving room for the horses to pass. It was th

he carriage passed on, but, before turning into the branch road a few yards ahead, it

Uncle Ish, don't

Ain't I tell you she wuz plum crazy? What she

lick of the peeled hickory whip, the carriage rolled into the branch road and disappeared, scattering a whirl of mud d

he remainder of the way. Between the densely wooded thicket on either side, the road looked dark and solemn. It was spread with a rotting carpet of last year's leaves, soft and damp under foot, and polished into shining tracks in the ruts left by

ncle Dan'l Mule had certainly seen a figure in a white sheet rise up out of that decayed oak stump in the hollow, for he had sworn to it in the boy's presence in Aunt Rhody Sand's cabin the night of

in corn, and now supported a headless army of dry stubble, amid a dull-brown waste of broomsedge. The last pale vestige of the afterglow, visible across the level country, swept the arid field and softened the harsh outlines of the landscape. It was barren soil

re gate on the opposite side of the road, when he heard th

-who-a

small figure and green cotton frock of his half-sister, Sarah Jane, who

-ep hev' been driv-en

e house. At the pump near the back door his father, who had just come from work, was washing his hands before going into supper, and near a row of pointed chicken coops the th

red" oilcloth of a bright walnut tint. At her back stood Sarah Jane with a plate of corn bread in one hand and a glass pit

stopped on her way to the stove and surv

me," she remarked, "an' I reckon you're power

r the past several years Nicholas had never seen her without a large cotton handkerchief bound tightly about her face. She had been t

it as he took his seat at the table, while Sarah Jane went to the

gh with at every meal since the malady began, and Marthy Burr, wh

she stood up to pour the coffee out of the large tin boiler. "It's mine, an' I've born

rops on his large, freckled face and shining on his heavy eyebrows. Present

eckon you can take the one-horse harrow and go over it to-morro

m. She and Nick can do the balance after supper. Hurry up, Sairy Jane, and get through.

to harrow the land to-morrow, pa," he began;

m helplessly. "Wall, I

ear the likes?"

, can't I?" a

Sarah Jane, looking up with her mo

head and look

can't spare you." Then he concluded with a touch of irritation, "I don't see as

ver his bread and

ried breathlessly, and the unshed tears s

t any more schoolin'," he repeated stubbornly, b

by the softness of amiability than by the genius of opposition. "I don'

"I can get up 'fore day and do a piece of the land, and I can help you

the hogs. Nicholas went over to the window and joined Sarah Jane, who was shelling the peanuts, carefully separating the outer hulls from the inner pin

u and Jake go out to the old oak and see if all the turkeys air up. Be sure and count 'em-and take Jubal (the youngest) 'long with you. If you see your pa tell him I say to look at the brindle cow. S

after throwing himself upon his corn-shuck mattress, he lay for a long time staring at the ceiling