"You seem to know him pretty well."

"Know him? I orto. Raised wid him, an' lived heah all my life. Now,
when you see Cunnel Blount come home, he'll come up 'long dat lane,
him an' de dogs, an' dem no 'count niggers he done took 'long wid
him; an' when he gits up to whah de lane crosses de railroad track,
ef he come ridin' 'long easy like, now an' den tootin' his hawn to
so'ht o' let us know he's a-comin'--ef he do dat-away, dat's all
right,--dat's all right." Here the garrulous old servant shook his
head. "But ef he don't--well den--"

"That's bad, if he doesn't, eh?"

"Yassah. Ef he don' come a-blowin' an' ef he _do_ come _a-singin'_,
den look out! I allus did notice, ef Cunnel Blount 'gins to sing
'ligious hymns, somethin's wrong, and somethin' gwine ter drap. He
hain't right easy ter git along wid when he's a-singin'. But if you'll
'scuse me, suh, I gotter take care o' old Hec. Jest make yourself to
home, suh,--anyways you like."

The visitor contented himself with wandering about the yard, until at
length he seated himself on the board-pile beneath the evergreen
trees, and so sank into an idle reverie, his chin in his hand, and
his eyes staring out across the wide field. His face, now in repose,
seemed more meditative; indeed one might have called it almost
mournful. The shoulders drooped a trifle, as though their owner for
the time forgot to pull himself together. He sat thus for some time,
and the sun was beginning to encroach upon his refuge, when suddenly
he was aroused by the faint and far-off sound of a hunting horn. That
the listener distinguished it at such a distance might have argued