"Come on," shouted the overseer hoarsely, "thirty of yer ef yer afraid." The crowd fell back. "We ain' gwine ter dat ar spook place, no mattah w'at you do to us." "Perkins, what IS the matter?" Mr. Baron was heard shouting from the house. "Reckon you better come out yere, sir." "Are the hands making trouble?" "No sir, sump'n quar's gwine on, what we kyant mek out yit." Mr. Baron, wrapped in his dressing-gown, soon appeared on the scene, while Aun' Suke's domain contributed its quota also of agitated, half-dressed forms. Chunk could not resist the temptation to be a witness to the scene and in a copse near by was grinning with silent laughter at his success. After learning what had occurred, Mr. Baron scoffed at their superstitions, sternly bidding all to go to their places and keep quiet. "Perkins, you've been drinking beyond reason," he warned his overseer in a low voice. "Get back to your room quick or you will be the laughing-stock of everybody! See here, you people, you have simply got into a panic over the howling of the wind, which happens to blow down from the graveyard to-night." "Neber yeared de win' howl dataway befo'," the negroes answered, as in a mass they drifted back to the quarters. Perkins was not only aware of his condition but was only too glad to have so good an excuse for not searching the cemetery. Scarcely had he been left alone, however, before he followed the negroes, resolved upon companionship of even those in whom he denied a humanity like his own. In the darkness Chunk found an opportunity to summon Jute aside and say, "Free er fo' ob you offer ter stay wid ole Perkins. Thet he'p me out." Perkins accepted the offer gladly, and they agreed to watch at his door and in the little hallway. "You mus' des tie up dat ar dawg ob yourn," first stipulated Jute. "Why, whar in--is the dog? Hain't yeared a sound from 'im sence the 'sturbance begun." "Dwags kyant stan' spooks nohow," remarked Jute. "I've yeared that," admitted Perkins, looking around for the animal. "Thar he is, un'er yo' baid," said Jute, peeking through the doorway. The miserable man's hair fairly stood up when the brute was discovered stark and dead without a scratch upon him. Recourse was again had to the jug, and oblivion soon followed. CHAPTER XXXV A VISITATION