“I ain’ scared to go. I’d sooner go dan stay. My time’s out. I’m done for. I know it. I got one t’ing to ask you. Not but one. You’ll do it, enty? I couldn’ rest in my grave—if you fail me——”
His breath cut off his words and he closed his eyes as it came with a rattle through his teeth. Uncle Bill called Breeze to open the window.
“Open em easy, son. Don’ wake up Joy, not yet,” he cautioned.
“Not yet,” April’s whisper echoed.
Outside, the black trees sounded restless. An uneasy pattering and rustling ran through the dry lips of the leaves. Flying insects buzzed into the room and beat against the walls with noisy humming wings. Moths flew wildly about the glass lamp on the floor at the foot of the bed. They were crazed by its smoky yellow bitter-smelling light.
“Uncle——” April’s breath stifled, his eyes widened with the strain, but he forced his lips to twist out the words he wanted to say.
“Bury me in a man-size box—— You un’erstan’?— A man—size—box—— I—been—six—feet—fo’—Uncle—— Six feet—fo’!”
The blaze in his eyes fell back, cold, dim. A long shudder swept over him. The tide had turned.
THE END
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