In getting out Lem had stumbled in the door and fallen heavily over his rifle. When he scrambled to his feet again, he beheld Belle-Ann and Buddy fleeing across the moonlit clearing. He started to follow, but checked himself and stopped short; he stood combating the superstitious fear that had dropped into his senses and sapped away his equanimity. "Gawd'll Moughty," he muttered audibly, "air this ole Cap Lutts' boy runnin' away. Not by a dern sight--I'll go back an' finish em." Then he hallooed lustily after Buddy. "Hey, Buddy--Buddy--Buddy--cum back heah--cum back heah, I tell yo'--cum back!" Buddy came back reluctantly, his thin countenance still grim with pallor and an inquiring look in his wild eyes. "Whut ails yo', Lem?" he panted. Lem regarded him a second with an admonishing stare, forgetful of his own conduct. "I'm ashamed o' yo'," he said. "Whut, Lem?" "Whut yo'-all a runnin' fo'--eh?" demanded Lem. Bud jammed one hand into his pocket, abashed, and cast a fearful glance toward the church door. "Don't yo' know hit's the revenoor?" "Yes, course I do, Lem--but--but they's a hant in em." "Hant er no hant, we'uns air agoin' in, an' ef he hain't daid----" "Yo' darsn't, Lem--no--no," protested Buddy in alarm. "Yo' darsn't kill hit, Lem--yo' darsn't kill a hant--th' witches 'll spell-tuk we'uns an' foller we'uns alers, alers. Slab says so--Slab knows." "Well," returned Lem, "leastways we'uns 'll go back an' see." Whereupon he strode to the church door resolutely and pushed it half open. Buddy still hung back undecided. "Hain't yo' ole Cap Lutts' boy?" rebuked his brother severely. "An' hain't that the revenuer?" "Sho'," agreed Buddy, now plainly embarrassed, and followed with determined alacrity. Howbeit, the same ghostly dread hung at Lem's elbow, but his mighty will whipped his body into subservience and he boldly re-entered the church, and made his way toward the lantern that shrouded the altar with its yellow glow. Buddy followed closely and tremblingly at his heels. The soft, irregular, rapid pad of bare feet met their ears, punctuated by a prodigious breathing that might have issued from the bellows of a blown horse. They caught alternate glimpses of the bestial thing, as its lengthy, starved shadow hove around the near corner of the altar and struck the far rim of light. It flitted past like a gesticulating, dying toad, glued to the tire of a wagon wheel. It was galloping madly in a circle--milling around and around and around the platform as if ridden and spurred by an incubus, bent on the reward of a trophy hell-cup.