CHAPTER XXXVI
UNCLE LUSTHAH EXHORTS
The heavy thunder shower which came and passed quickly, combined with a consciousness of their high-handed performances, so awed Chunk and Zany and oppressed them with misgivings that they were extremely reticent, even to Aun' Jinkey. Chunk appeared profoundly ignorant of the ghostly disturbances, trying to say unconcernedly, "I foun' hit a orful long en skeery trable ter de Un'on lines en I says ter mysef, 'De Yanks fin' me down yere quicker ner I fin' dem up Norf. Dey be comin' dis away agin sho'."
"I des tells you we all git whip nigh ter daith ef you ain' mo' keerful," said Aun' Jinkey, solemnly. "I kyant stan' de goin's on. I gwine ter pieces ev'y day en nights git'n wusser'n de days. De gust ober en you bettah light out. Ef Zany missed dey come yere lookin' fer her."
They needed no urging to depart, for Zany was now as scared as Chunk had ever wished her to be, but her terrors were taking a form which inclined her to cling to the old landmarks rather than risk she knew not what, in running away. As she and Chunk were stealing toward the kitchen a flash of lightning from the retiring storm revealed a startling figure—that of Perkins, drenched and bedraggled, his eyes almost starting from their sockets as he staggered toward his cottage. Chunk's courage at last gave way; he turned and fled, leaving Zany in the lurch. Frightened almost to the point of hysterics, she crept to her bed and shook till morning, resolving meanwhile to have done with Chunk and all his doings. The next day Mrs. Baron found her the most diligent and faithful of servants.
Perkins reached his door and looked into the dark entrance, the gusts having blown out the light. He shook his head, muttered something unintelligible, and then bent his uncertain steps to the tavern. The next morning Mr. Baron suspected where he was and went to see him. The overseer was found to be a pitiable spectacle, haggard trembling, nervous in the extreme, yet sullen and reticent and resolute in his purpose never to set foot on the plantation again. Mr. Baron then closed all business relations and sent over the man's belongings. Perkins became a perplexing problem to Mr. Baron and his household and a terrible tradition to the negroes, who regarded him as a haunted man. Every day and night passed in quietness after his departure enabled them to breathe more freely and to become more assured that he "wuz de on'y one de spooks arter."
Chunk felt that he had disgraced himself by running away and leaving Zany, and did not venture back till the second night after the culmination of his schemes. He found Jute and his associates scared, sullen and inclined to have little to do with him in their present mood. Then he hooted in vain for Zany. The girl heard him but made no sign, muttering, "Sence you runned away en lef me I'se done wid runnin' away. You tootin' lak a squinch-owl en kin kep comp'ny wid squinch-owls."
Only Aun' Jinkey gave him food and a sort of fearful welcome, and poor
Chunk found himself at last a very unhappy and skulking outlaw.
Mr. Baron gradually rallied under his increased responsibilities and resolved to be his own overseer. Although an exacting master, the negroes knew he was not a severe one if they did their work fairly well. The spook scare had given Uncle Lusthah renewed influence and he used it in behalf of peace and order. "Our fren Miss Lou, sick," he urged. "We mek her trouble en we mek oursefs trouble ef we doan go on peac'ble. What kin we do eny way at dis yer time? De Norf fightin' fer us en hit all 'pen' on de Norf. We mus' kep a gwine ez we is till de times en seasons ob de Lawd is 'vealed."
And so for a period, quiet again settled down on the old plantation. Mrs. Whately and Aun' Jinkey nursed Miss Lou into a slow, languid convalescence, till at last she was able to sit in an easy-chair on the piazza. This she would do by the hour, with a sad, apathetic look on her thin face. She was greatly changed, her old rounded outlines had shrunken and she looked frail enough for the winds to blow away. The old, fearless, spirited look in her blue eyes had departed utterly, leaving only an expression of settled sadness, varied by an anxious, expectant gaze, suggesting a lingering hope that some one might come or something happen to break the dreadful silence which began, she felt, when Scoville fell from his horse in the darkening forest. It remained unbroken, and her heart sank into more hopeless despondency daily. Aun' Jinkey and Zany were charged so sternly to say nothing to disturb the mind of their young mistress that they obeyed. She was merely given the impression that Perkins had gone away of his own will, and this was a relief. She supposed Chunk had returned to his Union friends, and this also became the generally accepted view of all except Aun' Jinkey.