Rare Earth
place. No voodoo legend was more bloodcurdling than the screeching that emanated, it was rumored, from the heart of that gruesome swamp. When the moon rose the goblins came out and capered about the narrow trails. During the day they hid in the mud and quicksand to grip the heels of any unlucky person who chanced by accident to set foot in the purling ooze.
Of course Linda never entered the swamp at night. There were few inhabitants of the low country that would. One must not tempt the spirits too far, else they might send a haunt to moan beneath one's window, a haunt such as had made miserable the nights of Jerry Cane until he was forced in desperation to flee from his home. No one knew where he went. Soipe said he left the state. Others pointed to the swamp and dolefully shook their heads. Yes, Linda was very careful not to displease the spirits.
The cabin was so flimsily built it was possible to see the stars through cracks in the
warped boards on summer evenings. Though
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