"Didn't know you were back."
"Yeah, I's back."
"Have you—been looking for me?"
"Yeah."
"Didn't you know where I was staying?"
"Co'se I did; up 'mong de white folks. You know dey don' 'low no shootin' an' killin' 'mong de white folks." He drew his pistol from the holster with the address of an expert marksman.
'Naw Yuh Don't,' He Warned Sharply. 'You Turn Roun' An' March on to Niggertown'
Peter stood, with a quickening pulse, studying his assailant. The glade, the air, the sunshine, seemed suddenly drawn to a tension, likely to, break into violent commotion. His abrupt danger brought Peter to a feeling of lightness and power. A quiver went along his spine. His nostrils widened unconsciously as he calculated a leap and a blow at Tump's gun.