Clay caught him by the arm and held him back. “Here,” he said, “you ain’t going away with that boat right now! See if you can’t catch your breath long enough to tell us what’s ‘done broke out’. Put us wise to what the trouble is.”
“De night-riders done broke out!” cried the old negro. “Ah smell ’em!”
“What is it you smell?” asked Clay.
“Burnin’ ’baccy!” was the reply. “Dey done fire some warehouse!”
“Not in the daytime!” exclaimed Jule. “They don’t set fire to warehouses in the daytime!”
“Cain’t nebber tell whut dem night-riders gwine do nex’,” answered Uncle Zeke. “Dey’re pow’ful ornery trash!”
“I know what I’m going to do next!” Alex exclaimed. “I’ve got a misery in my stomach and I’m going to quell it right now!”
“You hungry, Uncle Zeke?” asked Clay.
“Ah sure got mah eye on dat chicken!”
“Well,” Clay went on, “if you run up through that fringe of trees and see what’s burning, I’ll give you some chicken as soon as you get back.”