"Negroes are no good out on this kind of work. A nigger wants to be in or near a town," McCarty declared positively. "He wants to be where he can get out nights and 'rambles,' as he calls it. He don't like to stay long on a job, anyway. If he's not paid every Saturday night, he quits. If he is paid, he's pretty likely to quit, too, for he will have $8 or $9 in his pocket, and, as long as he has a dollar he does not believe in work. I remember hearing once this dialogue between a white man and a nigger: "White Man--'Say, boy, do you want to earn a quarter?' "Negro--'No, sah, boss; I'se dun got a quarter.'" Chris beating on a tin pan drew them all to the cook tent, where a good supper awaited them. The sun went out of sight while they were eating, and darkness followed immediately, as there is no twilight in Florida. Lanterns were lit, and, while the Captain and Walter lent the overworked little negro a hand in cleaning up, McCarty, who had moved his tent close to the Captain's, built up a big fire in front of the tents, and hunted up a few boxes for seats. Here the Captain and Walter soon joined him, while Chris wandered over to visit with his countrymen. "I always like to sit by a camp fire evenings, when I am out on a job like this." McCarty said. "It seems to take away some of the loneliness, and makes things seem more cheerful. Just listen for a minute to the din, will you?" There was no need to listen--the din could not be ignored. The croaking of millions of frogs, the honk of sand-hill cranes, and the screeching of innumerable owls rose up from the darkness about them. "Sounds like they were all saying their prayers at once and getting ready to go to sleep," said Walter, with a laugh. "And that's just what they are doing," said McCarty. "Step outside of the circle of firelight with me, and take a look around." The three stepped out a few paces from the fire and gazed about them. It was pitch dark, but all around them glowed millions of tiny lights, flittering here and there. "Just fireflies," explained McCarty. "But watch. See that thin white mist rising from the ground?" As they watched, the white vapor rose higher, grew denser, and shrouded the land with a ghost-like shroud. The fireflies disappeared, the frogs ceased croaking, the owls' hooting died away, and all was still. "Night has drawn its sheet over them, and they have gone to sleep," said McCarty whimsically. "Hark!" exclaimed Walter. "What's that?" "Hanged if I know," said McCarty, puzzled. "It's coming closer all the time, whatever it is." CHAPTER IX. BOB IS SENT HOME.