"Miss Kitty!"
"Well, what is it?" Kitty was startled a little in spite of herself.
"Please, ma'am, don't be skeer'd."
"Why should I be frightened? What do you want?"
"Miss Kitty, I des come by fer ter tell you dat Murder Creek done come way out er its banks, en ef Mars. George Denham come by w'en he gwine on home, I wish you please, ma'am, be so good ez ter tell 'im dat dey ain't no fordin'-place fer ter be foun' dar dis night."
The voice was that of a negro, and there was something in the tone of it that arrested Kitty Kendrick's attention.
"Who sent you?" she asked.
"Nobody ain't sont me; I des come by myse'f. I laid off fer ter tell Mars. George, but I year talk he mighty headstrong, en I speck he des laugh at me."
"Are you one of our hands?"
"No, 'm; I don't b'long on de Kendrick Place."