"Air yo' a goin' fer off, Lem?" questioned Bud. Slab edged nearer, his old ears eager for the project.
Lem reached out and laid a hand on his little brother's thin shoulder, as with a jerk he tossed his chestnut hair backward.
"Buddy," he said in measured tones, "to-morry I'm a goin' away—I cyan't tell how fer—I mought be gone a week—I mought be gone a month—mebby a year—mebby ten years—I mought never cum back, Buddy—but when I do cum back—yo'll know thet I seed Belle-Ann."
This intelligence jarred Buddy's hard, tight-lipped mouth ajar and fired his cold, misanthropic heart with a vibrant yearning. How he would love to see Belle-Ann! Slab slid gently off the witch-block like a turtle, and rubbed his gnarled old hands together in hearty approval.
"When yo'-all see Lem agin, Buddy," repeated Lem, "yo'll know I seed Belle-Ann—I air agoin' below, an' I air agoin' t' find Belle-Ann ef th' trail leads aroun' th' worl'—I aim t' see her face onct mo'—jest onct mo' 'fore I die——
"Ef I see her, I'll cum back heah t' Moon mountain, an' never leave 'til yo' all lay me down 'side maw an' pap—ef I don't cum back—yo'll know thet I'm still a lookin' fo' our'n deah little Belle-Ann—er I'm daid."
"Mebby yo'll find her, Lem," predicted Buddy, "an' mebby she'll cum back home long o' yo'." An unwonted smile lingered on his countenance for a brief moment in this anticipation. Then Slab with deep solemnity advanced a sorceristic theory, drawn from his prognostic acumen.
"Lemmy—Lemmy," he began in a confidential, sibilant, half-whisper, "las' night—las' night," he peered cautiously into the gloom, peopled with gesticulating shadows. "Las' night er han' recht out an' tech me on ma foot—an' I wake up—an' er li'lle voice say, 'Slab, git up'—an' I git up—an' th' li'lle voice say, awful soft an' low like, 'Slab,' it say, 'Slab look out'—an' I peek ma haid out—an' thar set Mr. Owl—not er onery li'lle screech owl, what snoops wif de debil—but er big, yaller, honest ole owl, whut de Obeah-spirit send t' tell Slab er message, whut de good Lord hev in mind whut's gwine t' happen. Dah set Mr. Owl up in de daid cedar, wif de big moon right ahind him—den I snuck out an' slip up t' de daid cedar, an' stand jist as still, an' wait t' see ef owl say somethin'—'cause ef owl say first—den dat means bad—but ef owl wait fo' me t' say first—den dat means good—so I stand jist as still—an' owl he don't say nuffin'—an' I wait agin, an' owl he don' open he mouf—den I fix my hands, an' I say—'hoo! hoo! hoo!' an' jist ez quick ez lighten' Mr. Owl he say 'hoo!—hoo! hoo!' Den I say 'hoo! hoo! hoo!' seban times, an' ebery time Mr. Owl he answer me—den when I say 'hoo!—hoo!—hoo!' de las' time—Mr. Owl he flop his wings an' goed away—den I knowed shore dat somethin' gwine t' drap—den I looks 'round an' finds er li'lle bitty Obeah-stone—er li'lle white stone, wif er li'lle black speck on hit—an' I fetches hit heah an' lays hit down on de witch-block right heah—an' I turned 'round an' started back t' bed, when somethin' whispered ahind me—den I jump 'round—but I warn't skeert—an' dah she were—dah she were, Lemmie—dah she were settin' up on dis witch-block right whar I put de Obeah-stone,—dah set our li'lle Belle-Ann lookin' at Slab—I seed her just ez plain, Lemmie—jest ez plain ez I see you des minit—all dressed up white ez snow—an' all dem curls er hangin' down roun' her shoulders, an' her li'lle mouf wus er smilin' at me—an' her beau'ful eyes wus er lookin' right at me—an' I drap down on ma knees—right heah—right heah, whar I stan' now—an' I hollers out: 'Hallelujah!—I allers tol' dem dat yo'd cum back, li'lle gal'—an' she stretch her hands out ter me—an' I bust out er cryin'—I couldn't he'p hit—I bust out er cryin'—an' I heer her voice just ez plain ez I heer ma own now,—I heer her voice like er nightengale's voice,—she say, 'Whar's Lem—whar's Lem—whar's Lem?—yo' Slab—whar's Lem?—blow de horn fo' Lem,—yo' Slab—blow de horn fo' Lem'—an' I git up off ma knees an' go t' tech her han' an' she warn't dah—she goed away jist ez quick ez lighten'—an' I look an' de li'lle Obeah-stone I lay on dat witch-block wus goed away, too—Lemmie—dat means dat we's gwine t' see li'lle Belle-Ann 'fore a great spell—yore due t' find li'lle Belle-Ann, Lemmie,—yo'll sho' see her—Buddy'll see her—Slab's ole eyes'll see her—yo' know, Lemmie,—de good Lord hev His pertic'ler ways t' tell good folks 'bout all des things—He kindy tells dem 'forehand—so's dey hearts won't break—so's dey'll hev c'urage, an' trus' in Him—Slab knows He do—Slab knows."