The time had come when Chunk was ready to act. On the night in
question a hot wind arose which blew from the little burial-place on
the hill toward the house. "Hi! now's de charnce ter fix dat ar
bizness!" and he made his preparations. Shortly before midnight he
crept like a cat under the overseer's window. The heavy snoring rose
and fell reassuringly, sweet as music to Chunk's ears. Not so the
angry, restless growling of the savage bloodhound chained within.
"But you doan kotch me dis yere time fer all yer fuss, Marse Grip,"
the negro muttered. "I done hab yer brekfus' ready fer yer! Dat'll
settle yer hash,' and with deft hand a piece of poisoned meat was
tossed close to the brute's feet as Chunk hastened away. Jute was
next wakened and put on the watch. An hour later there came from the
soldiers' cemetery the most doleful, unearthly sounds imaginable. No
need for Jute and his confederates to arouse the other negroes in
the quarters. A huddled frightened gang soon collected, Aun' Jinkey
among them so scared she could not speak.
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