FOLKS FROM DIXIE
the light lasted. It was now nearly midnight, and the men were tired and cramped in their places. They dared not move about much, for every appearance of an arm or a leg brought a shot from the besieged. Oh for the darkness, that they might advance and storm the stronghold! Then they could either overpower the blacks by force of numbers, or set fire to the place that held them and shoot them down as they tried to escape. Oh for darkness!
As if the Powers above were conspiring against the unfortunates, the clouds, which had been gathering dark and heavy, now loosed a downpour of rain which grew fiercer and fiercer as the thunder crashed down from the mountains echoing and re-echoing back and forth in the valley. The lightning tore vivid, zigzag gashes in the inky sky. The fury of the storm burst suddenly, and before the blacks could realise what was happening, the torrent had beaten the fire down, and the way between them and their enemies lay in darkness. The strikers gave a cheer that rose even over the thunder.
As the young manager had said, the road over which Jason had to travel was a terrible one.
226
