the cheerfulness was universal—or that the slaves should partake of their master’s joy, and give way to their garrulity.
It was not destined that this joyfulness should continue to the end of their journey. It was after a time interrupted—not suddenly, nor by any fault on the part of those indulging in it, but by causes and circumstances over which they had not the slightest control.
As the stranger had predicted: the sun ceased to be visible, before the cypress came in sight.
There was nothing in this to cause apprehension. The line of the lazo was conspicuous as ever; and they needed no guidance from the sun: only that his cloud-eclipse produced a corresponding effect upon their spirits.
“One might suppose it close upon nightfall,” observed the planter, drawing out his gold repeater, and glancing at its dial; “and yet it’s only three o’clock! Lucky the young fellow has left us such a sure guide. But for him, we imght have floundered among these ashes till sundown; perhaps have been compelled to sleep upon them.”
“A black bed it would be,” jokingly rejoined Henry, with the design of rendering the conversation more cheerful. “Ugh! I should have such ugly dreams, were I to sleep upon it.”
“And I, too,” added his sister, protruding her pretty face through the curtains, and taking a survey of the surrounding scene: “I’m sure I should dream of Tartarus, and Pluto, and Proserpine, and”
“Hya! hya! hya!” grinned the black Jehu, on the box—enrolled in the plantation books as Pluto Poindexter—“De young missa dream ’bout me in de mids’ ob dis brack praira! Golly! dat am a good joke—berry! Hya! hya! hya!”
“Don't be too sure, all of ye,” said the surly nephew, at this moment coming up, and taking part in the conversation—“don't be too sure that you won't have to make your beds upon it yet. I hope it may be no worse.”
“What mean you, Cash?” inquired the uncle.
“I mean, uncle, that that fellow’s been misleading us. I won't say it for certain; but it looks ugly. We've come more than five miles—six, I should say—and where’s the tree? I've examined the horizon, with a pair of as good eyes as most have got, I reckon; and there isn’t such a thing in sight.”
“But why should the stranger have deceived us?”
“Ah—why? That's just it. There may be more reasons than one.”
“Give us one, then!” challenged a silvery voice from the carriole. “We're all ears to hear it!”
“You’re all ears to take in everything that’s told you by a stranger,” sneeringly replied Calhoun. “I suppose if I gave my reason, you'd be so charitable as to call it a false alarm!”
“That depends on its character, Master Cassius. I think you
