Some one was coming up the lane; at least, a huge faded cotton umbrella was making progress toward the house, and beneath it a pair of nether extremities in trousers was discernible. Any doubt in my mind as to whose they were was soon resolved when Julius reached the steps and, putting the umbrella down, got a good dash of the rain as he stepped up on the porch. "Why in the world, Julius," I asked, "didn't you keep the umbrella up until you got under cover?" "It's bad luck, suh, ter raise a' umbrella in de house, en w'iles I dunno whuther it's bad luck ter kyar one inter de piazzer er no, I 'lows it's alluz bes' ter be on de safe side. I did n' s'pose you en young missis 'u'd be gwine on yo' dribe ter-day, but bein' ez it's my pa't ter take you ef you does, I 'lowed I 'd repo't fer dooty, en let you say whuther er no you wants ter go." "I'm glad you came, Julius," I responded. "We don't want to go driving, of course, in the rain, but I should like to consult you about another matter. I'm thinking of taking in a piece of new ground. What do you imagine it would cost to have that neck of woods down by the swamp cleared up?" The old man's countenance assumed an expression of unwonted seriousness, and he shook his head doubtfully. "I dunno 'bout dat, suh. It mought cos' mo', en it mought cos' less, ez fuh ez money is consarned. I ain' denyin' you could cl'ar up dat trac' er Ian' fer a hund'ed er a couple er hund'ed dollahs,--ef you wants ter cl'ar it up. But ef dat 'uz my trac' er Ian', I would n' 'sturb it, no, suh, I would n'; sho 's you bawn, I would n'." "But why not?" I asked. "It ain' fittin' fer grapes, fer noo groun' nebber is." "I know it, but"-- "It ain' no yeathly good fer cotton, 'ca'se it's top low." "Perhaps so; but it will raise splendid corn." "I dunno," rejoined Julius deprecatorily. "It's so nigh de swamp dat de 'coons'll eat up all de cawn." "I think I'll risk it," I answered. "Well, suh," said Julius, "I wushes you much joy er yo' job. Ef you has bad luck er sickness er trouble er any kin', doan blame _me_. You can't say ole Julius did n' wa'n you." "Warn him of what, Uncle Julius?" asked my wife. "Er de bad luck w'at follers folks w'at 'sturbs dat trac' er Ian'. Dey is snakes en sco'pions in dem woods. En ef you manages ter 'scape de p'isen animals, you is des boun' ter hab a ha'nt ter settle wid,--ef you doan hab two." "Whose haunt?" my wife demanded, with growing interest. "De gray wolf's ha'nt, some folks calls it,--but I knows better." "Tell us about it, Uncle Julius," said my wife. "A story will be a godsend to-day."