His eyes were wide with fright. His
heart beat so hard in his throat he thought he would surely die before
he could reach the cabin. At every step the light seemed to be growing
dimmer and the thicket denser, although he thought he certainly must
have been running long enough to have reached the clearing. Still he ran
on, and on, and on. The recollection of one of Mammy's stories flashed
across his mind.
[Illustration: The ganders had chased him around]
Once a man had lost his way in this wood, and the ganders had chased him
around and around until daylight. The thought made him so weak in the
knees that he was ready to drop from fright and exhaustion. Then he
recalled a superstition that he had often heard, that anyone who has
lost his way may find it again by turning his pocket wrong side out. He
was twitching at his with trembling hands, looking with eyes too
frightened to see, and fumbling with fingers too stiff with fear to
feel, but the pocket seemed to have disappeared. "It's conju'ed too," he
wailed, as he ran heedlessly on.
Pages:
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84