De sooner earth’s trials and sorrers shall cease,
De sooner us’ll enter de mansions of peace—
Let de chariot of fire roll by!”
The famous Tickfall quartet was there. Instantly Hitch Diamond, Skeeter Butts, and Figger Bush chimed in, and the song swept out across the silence of the swamp, echoing in that vast greenhouse of vegetation which grew in such rank profusion. From the throats of three hundred negroes issued a low, moaning wail in perfect harmony with the music.
Vinegar Atts and Hitch Diamond turned and walked away. Skeeter Butts and Figger Bush followed, still singing, and the other negroes forgot the purpose for which they had walked four miles into the woods, and meekly, without protestation, trailed their leaders back to the town.
After all, they had seen enough to pay them for their trip. They had seen an airplane for the first time. They had something to think about; something to talk about, and, as for the flight of Red Cutt, they had something to anticipate.
One man alone was dissatisfied, but he was always dissatisfied. The sneer on Pap Curtain’s lips was more pronounced, and the snarl in his voice was accentuated as he said to those who plodded along in the rear of the procession:
“Dat Red Cutt wus pretty sharp when he side-tracked his ride in dat airplane fer a speech by Elder Vinegar Atts. But dat nigger can’t excape away, an’ I’ll make him fly yit or know the reason why.”
The other negroes did not answer. They were too busy harmonizing with the Tickfall quartet:
“Swing low, sweet chariot,