A negro passed along the beaten way leading to the cabins, whistling a tune. It was Randall. He heard the others and paused.
"It's your turn to tote," said Aaron.
"Who?" exclaimed Randall.
"The Little Master," replied Aaron.
Randall laughed. Who talked of turns where the Little Master was concerned? When it came to carrying that kind of burden, Randall was the man to do it, and it was "Don't le' me hurt you, honey. Ef I squeeze too tight, des say de word;" and then, "Whar we gwine, honey? A'on gwine in dar en put dat ar hoss up? Well, 'fo' he go in dar less all shake han's wid 'im, kaze when we nex' lay eyes on 'im he won't hear us, not ef we stoop down and holler good-by in his year."
But following Aaron, they went toward the lot where the Black Stallion had shown his savage temper during the day.
VIII.
THE HAPPENINGS OF A NIGHT.