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He
comes
trotting
back
towards
the
train
.
His
gestures
tell
of
something
amiss
.
What
is
it
?
There
has
been
much
talk
about
Indians
--
of
a
probability
of
their
being
encountered
in
this
quarter
.
Can
it
be
the
red-skinned
marauders
?
Scarcely
:
the
gestures
of
the
overseer
do
not
betray
actual
alarm
.
"
What
is
it
,
Mr
Sansom
?
"
asked
the
planter
,
as
the
man
rode
up
.
"
The
grass
air
burnt
.
The
prairy
's
been
afire
.
"
"
Been
on
fire
!
Is
it
on
fire
now
?
"
hurriedly
inquired
the
owner
of
the
waggons
,
with
an
apprehensive
glance
towards
the
travelling
carriage
.
"
Where
?
I
see
no
smoke
!
"
"
No
,
sir
--
no
,
"
stammered
the
overseer
,
becoming
conscious
that
he
had
caused
unnecessary
alarm
;
"
I
did
n't
say
it
air
afire
now
:
only
thet
it
hez
been
,
an
the
hul
ground
air
as
black
as
the
ten
o
'
spades
.
"
"
Ta
--
tat
!
what
of
that
?
I
suppose
we
can
travel
over
a
black
prairie
,
as
safely
as
a
green
one
?
"
What
nonsense
of
you
,
Josh
Sansom
,
to
raise
such
a
row
about
nothing
--
frightening
people
out
of
their
senses
!
Ho
!
there
,
you
niggers
!
Lay
the
leather
to
your
teams
,
and
let
the
train
proceed
.
Whip
up
!
--
whip
up
!
"
