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In
front
--
on
the
right
and
left
--
to
the
utmost
verge
of
vision
extends
the
scene
of
desolation
.
Over
it
the
cerulean
sky
is
changed
to
a
darker
blue
;
the
sun
,
though
clear
of
clouds
,
seems
to
scowl
rather
than
shine
--
as
if
reciprocating
the
frown
of
the
earth
.
The
overseer
has
made
a
correct
report
--
there
is
no
trail
visible
.
The
action
of
the
fire
,
as
it
raged
among
the
ripe
grass
,
has
eliminated
the
impression
of
the
wheels
hitherto
indicating
the
route
.
"
What
are
we
to
do
?
"
The
planter
himself
put
this
inquiry
,
in
a
tone
that
told
of
a
vacillating
spirit
.
"
Do
,
uncle
Woodley
!
What
else
but
keep
straight
on
?
The
river
must
be
on
the
other
side
?
If
we
do
n't
hit
the
crossing
,
to
a
half
mile
or
so
,
we
can
go
up
,
or
down
the
bank
--
as
the
case
may
require
.
"
"
But
,
Cassius
:
if
we
should
lose
our
way
?
"
"
We
ca
n't
.
There
's
but
a
patch
of
this
,
I
suppose
?
If
we
do
go
a
little
astray
,
we
must
come
out
somewhere
--
on
one
side
,
or
the
other
.
"
"
Well
,
nephew
,
you
know
best
:
I
shall
be
guided
by
you
.
"
"
No
fear
,
uncle
.
I
've
made
my
way
out
of
a
worse
fix
than
this
.
Drive
on
,
niggers
!
Keep
straight
after
me
.
"
The
ex-officer
of
volunteers
,
casting
a
conceited
glance
towards
the
travelling
carriage
--
through
the
curtains
of
which
appears
a
fair
face
,
slightly
shadowed
with
anxiety
--
gives
the
spur
to
his
horse
;
and
with
confident
air
trots
onward
.
