Uncle Josh’s fury knew no bounds. He was heartbroken at the sudden collapse of his revival, chagrined at the recollection of his own terror at the fire, and fearful of an avalanche of backsliders from the meeting among those who had professed even with the greatest glory. He demanded that the Preacher should turn Dick over to him for correction. The Preacher took a few hours to consider whether he should whip him himself or turn him over to Uncle Josh. Dick heard Uncle Josh’s demand. Out behind the stable he and Charlie held a council of war. “You go see Miss Mar’get fur me, en git up close to her, en tell her taint right ter ’low no low down black nigger ter whip me!” “All right Dick, I will,” agreed Charlie. “Case ef ole Josh beats me I gwine ter run away. I nebber git ober dat.” Dick had threatened to run away often before when he wanted to force Charlie to do something for him. Once he had gone a mile out of town with his clothes tied in a bundle, and Charlie trudging after him begging him not to leave. The boy did his best to save Dick the humiliation of a whipping at the hands of Uncle Josh, but in vain. When Uncle Josh led him out to the stable lot, his face was not pleasant to look upon. There was a dangerous gleam in Dick’s eye that boded no good to his enemy. “You imp er de debbil!” exclaimed Uncle Josh shaking his switch with unction. “I fool you good enough, you ole bal’ headed ape!” answered Dick gritting his teeth defiantly. “I make you sing enudder chune fo I’se done wid you.” “En if you does, nigger, you know what I gwine do fur you?” cried Dick rolling his eyes up at his enemy. “What kin you do, honey? asked Uncle Josh, humouring his victim now with the evident relish of a cat before his meal on a mouse. “Ef you hits me hard, I gwine ter burn you house down on you haid some night, en run erway des es sho es I kin stick er match to it,” said Dick. “You is, is you?” thundered Josh with wrath. “Dat I is. En I burn yo ole chu’ch de same night.” Uncle Josh was silent a moment. Dick’s words had chilled his heart. He was afraid of him, but he was afraid to back down from what was now evidently his duty. So without further words he whipped him. Yet to save his life he could not hit him as hard as he thought he deserved. That night Dick disappeared from Hambright, and for weeks every evening at dusk the wistful face of Charlie Gaston could be seen on the big hill to the south of town vainly watching for somebody. He would always take something to eat in his pockets, and when he gave up his vigil he would place the food under a big shelving rock where they had often played together. But the birds and ground squirrels ate it. He would slip back the next day hoping to see Dick jump out of the cave and surprise him. And then at last he gave it up, sat down under the rock and cried. He knew Dick would grow to be a man somewhere out in the big world and never come back. BOOK TWO--LOVE’S DREAM