It was nearly sundown before Jack came to the end of the first stage of his journey. Then suddenly, almost before he knew it, he was out from the woods into an open clearing where there was a growing field of maize, the harsh, crisp leaves glinting and rattling dryly in the wind. Beyond the field of Indian corn was a great and wide stretch of tobacco-fields, bordered, in the distance, by woodlands, nearly a mile away. In the mid-distance he could see a low log house surrounded by what appeared to be huts and cabins of various sizes and sorts.
Jack dug his heels into the horse’s side and galloped down the straight, dusty road that stretched away between the unfenced fields toward the houses, the horse pricking up his ears and whinnying.
At last he drew rein in front of the largest of the log houses. A number of half-naked negro children ran out as he approached, and, as he reined up his panting and sweating horse, a barefoot negro woman with a string of beads around her neck, and another around each of her wrists and each of her ankles, came to the door and stood looking at him. Her tall, conical turban blazed like a flame in the light of the setting sun and against the dark interior of the cabin. “Is this the South Plantation?” asked Jack.
“Um! Um!” assented the woman, nodding her head.
“Where’s the master?” asked Jack. “Where’s the overseer?”
The woman stared at him, making no attempt to answer his question. “Where’s your master?” said Jack again; and then, the woman still not replying, he said: “What’s the matter, don’t you speak English?”
“Iss,” said the woman with a grin; “me Ingiss.”
“Well, then,” said Jack, “where’s your master, where is he, eh?” and he waved his hand off toward the plantation field in a general way. Perhaps the negro woman understood the action better than the words. “He dar,” she said, pointing with her fingers. “He beat white man.”
“He beat white man—he dar,” and she pointed again. Jack did not understand what she meant, but he knew that the overseer was in the direction indicated, so he rode off toward the long row of huts that stretched away beyond, some built of boards and bark, and some of wattled sticks smeared with clay. Turning the end of the last hut he came suddenly upon an open space fronted by the outbuildings. A little crowd of men—black and white—stood gathered in this open. A man, evidently the overseer, was mounted upon a barrel and was addressing the group clustered before him. He carried one arm in a sling, and the sling was stained with fresh blood. Two assistant helpers, or overseers, stood behind the speaker.