The Four Pools Mystery | Page 7

but the whites showing.

"Marse Cunnel, dere's sperrits in de air," she cried. "Sabe yuhself while
dere's time. We's all a-treadin' de road to destruction."
"You'll be treading the road to destruction in mighty short order if you
don't keep still," he returned grimly. "Now stop this foolishness and tell
me what's gone with that chicken."
After a great deal of questioning and patching together, we finally got
her story, but I cannot say that it threw much light upon the matter. She
had put the chicken in the oven, and then she felt powerful queer, as if
something were going to happen. Suddenly she felt a cold wind blow
through the room, the candles went out, and she could hear the rustle of
"ghostly gahments" sweeping past her. The oven door sprang open of
its own accord; she looked inside, and "dere wa'n't no chicken dere!"
Repeated questioning only brought out the same statement but with
more circumstantial details. The other negroes backed her up, and the
story grew rapidly in magnitude and horror. Nancy's seizures, it
appeared, were contagious, and the others by this time were almost as
excited as she. The only approximately calm one among them was
Cat-Eye Mose who sat in the doorway watching the scene with half
furtive eyes and something resembling a grin on his face.
The Colonel, observing that it was a good deal of commotion for the
sake of one small chicken, disgustedly dropped the inquiry. As we
stepped out into the gallery again, I glanced back at the dancing
firelight, the weird cross shadows, and the circle of dusky faces, with, I
confess, a somewhat creepy feeling. I could see that in such an
atmosphere, it would not take long for superstition to lay its hold on a
man.
"What's the meaning of it?" I asked as we strolled slowly toward the
house.
"The meaning of it," Radnor shrugged, "is that some of them are lying.
The ha'nt, I could swear, has a good flesh and blood appetite. Nancy
has been frightened and she believes her own story. There's never any
use in trying to sift a negro's lies; they have so much imagination that

after five minutes they believe themselves."
"I think I could spot the ghost," I returned. "And that's your precious
Cat-Eye Mose."
Radnor shook his head.
"Mose doesn't need to steal chickens. He gets all he wants."
"Mose," the Colonel added emphatically, "is the one person on the
place who is absolutely to be trusted."
We had almost reached the house, when we were suddenly startled by a
series of shrieks and screams coming toward us across the open stretch
of lawn that lay between us and the old negro cabins. In another
moment an old woman, her face twitching with terror, had thrown
herself at our feet in a species of convulsion.
"De ha'nt! De ha'nt! He's a-beckoning," was all we could make out
between her moans.
The other negroes came pouring out from the kitchen and gathered in a
frenzied circle about the writhing woman. Mose, I noted, was among
them; he could at least prove an alibi this time.
"Here Mose, quick! Get us some torches," Radnor called. "We'll fetch
that ha'nt up here to answer for himself.--It's old Aunt Sukie," he added
to me, nodding toward the woman on the ground whose spasms by this
time were growing somewhat quieter. "She lives on the next plantation
and was probably taking a cross cut through the laurel path that leads
by the cabins. She's almost a hundred and is pretty nearly a witch
herself."
Mose shambled up with some torches--pine knots dipped in tar, such as
they used for hunting 'possums at night, and he and I and Radnor set
out for the cabins. I noticed that none of the other negroes volunteered
to assist; I also noticed that Mose went on ahead with a low whining
cry which sent chills chasing up and down my back.

"What's the matter with him?" I gasped, more intent on the negro than
the ghost we had come to search.
"That's the way he always hunts," Radnor laughed. "There are a good
many things about Mose that you will have to get used to."
We searched the whole region of the abandoned quarters with a
considerable degree of thoroughness. Three or four of the larger cabins
were used as store houses for fodder; the rest were empty. We poked
into all of them, but found nothing more terrifying than a few bats and
owls. Though I did not give much consideration to the fact at the time, I
later remembered that there was one of the cabins which we didn't
explore as thoroughly as the rest. Mose dropped his torch as we entered,
and in the confusion of relighting