“Um, um,” grunted Maumer. “An’ las’ night my Sam he rid fru de parster, er-sarchin’ fur de muel colt dat git out somers, an’ he say dat de hoodoos was er-dancin’ ergin in de big ditch; an’ sech er dance! an’ Crecy were wid ’em. Crecy was er-swingin’ dem shells ergin, an’, Sam say, were er-scatterin’ ashes ober her head, too, an’ putty nigh start naked, lack she were de odder night, an’ I sho dun’no’ what Lem mean fur ter let dat gal take on so; but yo’ min’ my words, ’case I knows what I’s er-tellin’ yo’, dat mean dat Jezrul gwine ter take Crecy back ’fore he git outen dis. Hain’t no common yarb truck ner teas gwine ter do Jezrul any good, ’case Crecy sho tamin’ uv him.” There was a thoughtful silence and a steady gazing into the fire, when a hoarse scream brought the gossipers to their feet. “Dat’s Jezrul,” whispered Maumer Belle, “an’ his voice soun’ sorter nat’rul.” The night was very dark, and the sick man had fallen in front of his cabin, but by the uncertain flare of the hastily lighted torches the watchers could see Crecy down upon her knees beside him, and the willowy form of Susanne scurrying away into the shadow. “Take hit off! take hit off!” he moaned. “I’s er dyin’ man, but I lubs on’y you, Crecy!” The teeth of the girl glistened in the torchlight. “Fur good?” “Fur good.” It was only a whisper, but it was an earnest, solemn truth. Her right arm was around his neck, but her left hand was pressing into his the little images of Susanne and himself. “Come inter de cabin an’ burn ’em wid you’ own han’, honey, ’case dat ’ll make yo’ well!” Crecy rose and led the way, and Jezrul meekly followed, for Jezrul was “tamed.” DARK ER DE MOON Abijah was a hoodoo; moreover, he had the reputation, over a wide stretch of territory, of having the evil or Judas eye, as it was called among the negroes, which gave him a power over them all the year round, which was only claimed by the first exhorter during “Big Meetin’.” No journey was ever undertaken, no new work begun, in fact, nothing of importance was ever planned by the negroes without first consulting Uncle ’Jah, who spoke as an oracle. His fame extended even to the poor whites of the section who had never owned a slave, and many were the potions for healing and philters for unrequited love, that passed from Uncle ’Jah’s hands for a small consideration. Uncle ’Jah also told the stars, and blended the inherited African rites most unreservedly with the Indian traditions and his idea of the white man’s religious ceremonials. Of course there were other hoodoos on the place, for what plantation had them not? but they were all lesser lights whose radiance paled before the effulgence of the leading spirit.