"That is the way to talk," John replied.
"Yes," said Alf, "it's de way ter talk, an' it's de way ter ack, too, but de danger is in 'em settin' de house erfire. Wall, I'se got er powerful good ole gun yere, an' ef I draw down on one o' dem men he'll wish he had er staid at home, I tell you. We'd better put deze lights out, caze dem raskils ken slip up yere an' shoot us through de cracks."
Action upon the old negro's advice was immediately taken. The wind began to howl furiously. A rumbling, low and distant, proclaimed with sullen threatening the coming of a storm. Nearer, nearer the rumbling came, and glittering spears of blinding light were thrust with angry flashing through the chink holes of the wall. The wind became more violent, the rumbling burst into a deafening clap, and ragged sheets of water lashed the house. The lingering lightning, quivering in fearful dalliance, as though loth to sink back into the dark and surging cloud, wrought upon the river, which could be seen through the window, a thousand terror-breeding shapes—great monsters that lashed the water into fiery foam.
"We better put down deze yere guns an' pray erwhile," said Alf. "Oh, Lawd, is you gwine ter let de elements kill yo' po' ole servant? My greshus, yere dem limbs strikin' de house! Dar ain't been no sich er storm ez dis—mussyful hebens, is de house down! Oh, I thought we gone dat time, sho. Deze ole logs wuz put yere ter stay—dat is, I hopes so."
"This storm will protect us from the Duns until morning, at least," Potter rejoined. "This lightning will purify our air against their poisonous vapors."
"Then," said John, "let us hope that this wind is not ill. Mr. Potter, you remember the first day I ever saw you, when we were sitting in the yard discussing a plan upon which, to me at least, there has fallen such a promise of ripeness, you said that I might think it strange that you should seek to bury yourself here in the woods."
"Yes, I remember."
"And you said that some time in the future you hoped to tell me the cause."
"Yes."
"Well, is not this a most befitting time? If a storm drove you to this place let a storm drive out to me your confidence. I have often seen you put your book aside and give yourself to moments of so deep a brooding that, though I would not seek to be obtrusive, I have tried to study out your mystery. This storm, I think, is growing worse. To-morrow—well, to-morrow we may not be here. Tell me now."