Even Chunk inclined to this view for a time, as the lightning blazed from sky to earth, and the thunder cracked and roared overhead.  The rain poured in such torrents that he feared Perkins might be drowned in the grave where he had been placed.  As for Aun’ Jinkey, she stared at her unexpected visitors in speechless perplexity and terror until the fury of the tempest had passed, their voices could be heard.

CHAPTER XXXVI

UNCLE LUSTHAH EXHORTS

The heavy thunder shower which came and passed quickly, combined with a consciousness of their high-handed performances, so awed Chunk and Zany and oppressed them with misgivings that they were extremely reticent, even to Aun’ Jinkey.  Chunk appeared profoundly ignorant of the ghostly disturbances, trying to say unconcernedly, “I foun’ hit a orful long en skeery trable ter de Un’on lines en I says ter mysef, ‘De Yanks fin’ me down yere quicker ner I fin’ dem up Norf.  Dey be comin’ dis away agin sho’.”

“I des tells you we all git whip nigh ter daith ef you ain’ mo’ keerful,” said Aun’ Jinkey, solemnly.  “I kyant stan’ de goin’s on.  I gwine ter pieces ev’y day en nights git’n wusser’n de days.  De gust ober en you bettah light out.  Ef Zany missed dey come yere lookin’ fer her.”

They needed no urging to depart, for Zany was now as scared as Chunk had ever wished her to be, but her terrors were taking a form which inclined her to cling to the old landmarks rather than risk she knew not what, in running away.  As she and Chunk were stealing toward the kitchen a flash of lightning from the retiring storm revealed a startling figure—­that of Perkins, drenched and bedraggled, his eyes almost starting from their sockets as he staggered toward his cottage.  Chunk’s courage at last gave way; he turned and fled, leaving Zany in the lurch.  Frightened almost to the point of hysterics, she crept to her bed and shook till morning, resolving meanwhile to have done with Chunk and all his doings.  The next day Mrs. Baron found her the most diligent and faithful of servants.

Perkins reached his door and looked into the dark entrance, the gusts having blown out the light.  He shook his head, muttered something unintelligible, and then bent his uncertain steps to the tavern.  The next morning Mr. Baron suspected where he was and went to see him.  The overseer was found to be a pitiable spectacle, haggard trembling, nervous in the extreme, yet sullen and reticent and resolute in his purpose never to set foot on the plantation again.  Mr. Baron then closed all business relations and sent over the man’s belongings.  Perkins became a perplexing problem to Mr. Baron and his household and a terrible tradition to the negroes, who regarded him as a haunted man.  Every day and night passed in quietness after his departure enabled them to breathe more freely and to become more assured that he “wuz de on’y one de spooks arter.”