“‘Tain’t Budwood you’s axin’ ’bout. Washy Still, he’s at Budwood. Dem you want know ’bout is at Mis’ Bellers! Washy Still thought he wuz gwine git one o’ dem whar wuz at Budwood; but he ain’t do it. Rich or no rich, dee tun up dey nose at him—and all he git wuz de nest arter de bud done fly. Dee look higher’n him I knows. But I mighty glad you come. Marse Steve, he’s dyah. He’s a big man now. You’s done stay away too long. He’s one o’ de leaders.” What could this mean? As Jacquelin drove homeward with the old man he discovered what it meant; for Waverley was not one to take the edge from a blow. He had a sympathetic heart and he made the most of it. “Marse Jack, de debble is done broke loose, sho!” he wound up. “De overseer is in de gret house, and de gent’man’s in de blacksmiff shop. I wonders sometimes dat old Injun-Killer don’ come down out de picture sho ’nough—like so many o’ dem dead folks what comin’ out dey graves.” “What’s that?” asked Jacquelin. “Dat’s what dee tells me,” protested Waverley. “De woods and roads is full on ’em at night. An’ you can’t git a nigger to stir out by hisself arter dark. I b’lieves it, and so does plenty o’ urrs.” He gave a little nervous laugh. “What nonsense is this?” demanded Jacquelin. “‘Tain’ no nonsense, Marse Jack. ’Tis de fatal truf—Since sich doin’s been goin’ on, de graves won’ hole ’em. De’s some knows ’tain’ no nonsense. Dee done been to de house o’ several o’ dese sarsy niggers whar done got dee heads turned and gin ’em warnin’ an’ a leetle tetch o’ what’s comin’ to ’em. Dee went to Moses’ house turr night an’ gin him warnin’. Moses wa’nt dyah; but dee done lef him de wud—cut three cross marks in de tree right side he do’; an’ he wife say dee leetle mo’ drink de well dry. One on ’em say he shot in de battle nigh heah and was cut up in de ole horspittle, and dat he jes come from torment to gi’ Moses an’ Sherrod an’ Nicholas Ash warnin’. Dee say he drink six water-bucketfuls and hit run down he guzzle sizzlin’ jes like po’in’ ’t on hot stove. Moses say he don’ mine ’em; but I tell you he better!” A sudden gleam of shrewdness crossed the old fellow’s face. “Things had done got pretty bad, Marse Jack,” the old man went on, confidentially. “Hiram Still and Cun’l Leech, dee owned ev’y thing, and ef you didn’t do what dee say you couldn’ turn roun’. Hiram, he turn’ me out my shop jes soon as he got our place; an’ soon as he fine he couldn’t git my young mistis, he turn’ de Doctor out. Look like he and dat urr man, Leech, sutney is got a grudge ’ginst all o’ we all. Dee done put dee cross marks ’ginst Hiram too. Some say ’twas de Injun-Killer. Leech say he don’ mine ’em—he’s gwine to be gov’ner an’ he say he’ll know how to settle ’em; but Hiram, sence he fine dat mark on de porch and on de tree, he walks right smart lighter’n he did.”