“I, for one, won’t sleep,” said the Negro.
“Can you shoot?” asked Jason.
The Negro chuckled, and, taking a revolver from the bosom of his blouse, aimed at the top of a pine-tree which had been grazed by lightning, and showed white through the fading light nearly a hundred yards away. There was a crack, and the small white space no larger than a man’s hand was splintered by the bullet.
“Well, there ain’t no doubt that you can shoot, and you may have to bring that gun of yours into action before you expect. In a case like this it’s your enemy’s life against yours.”
Andrews kept on his way, and the Negro turned up to the large supper-room. Most of them were already there and at the meal.
“Well, boys,” began big Sam, “you’d just as well get it out of your heads that our trouble is over here. It’s jest like I told you. I’ve been talkin’ to the fellow that used to have my place,—he ain’t in with the rest of the strikers,—an’ he thinks that they’re goin’ to try an’ run us out to-night. I’d advise you, as soon as it gets dark-like, to take what things you want out o’ yore cabins an’ bring ’em up here. It won’t do no harm to be careful until we find out what kind of a move they’re goin’ to make.”
The men had stopped eating, and they stared at the speaker with open mouths. There were some incredulous eyes among the gazers, too.
“I don’t believe they’d dare come right out an’ do anything,” said one.
“Stay in yore cabin, then,” retorted the leader angrily.
There was no more demur, and as soon as night had fallen, the Negroes did as they were bidden, though the rude, ill-furnished huts contained little or nothing of value. Another precaution taken by the blacks was to leave short candles burning in their dwellings so as to give the impression of occupancy. If nothing occurred during the night, the lights would go out of themselves and the enemy would be none the wiser as to their vigilance.