walking awkwardly beside a handsome, bold-faced girl. Two white men came
riding by. One leered at the girl, and she laughed back, while the
yellow boy strode sullenly ahead. As the two white riders approached the
buggy one said to the other:

"Who's that nigger with?"

"One of them nigger teachers."

"Well, they'll stop this damn riding around or they'll hear something,"
and they rode slowly by.

Miss Taylor felt rather than heard their words, and she was
uncomfortable. The sun fell fast; the long shadows of the swamp swept
soft coolness on the red road. Then afar in front a curled cloud of
white dust arose and out of it came the sound of galloping horses.

"Who's this?" asked Miss Taylor.

"The Cresswells, I think; they usually ride to town about this time."
But already Miss Taylor had descried the brown and tawny sides of the
speeding horses.

"Good gracious!" she thought. "The Cresswells!" And with it came a
sudden desire not to meet them--just then. She glanced toward the swamp.
The sun was sifting blood-red lances through the trees. A little
wagon-road entered the wood and disappeared. Miss Taylor saw it.

"Let's see the sunset in the swamp," she said suddenly. On came the
galloping horses. Bles looked up in surprise, then silently turned into