IN THE SHADOW
"Wait a moment, friends." Leyden stepped from the wagon, drew out his kit bag, opened it
"Look out, stranger!" called one of the "crackers," "y' all done set the grass afire!"
"Ah, so I did," said Leyden indifferently. He drew a bottle of whisky from his kit bag. Giles watched him wondering.
"My friend and I were just about to have a drink," observed Leyden. "You gentlemen look heated; won't you join us?" he advanced toward them, bottle in hand, a smile on his handsome face which would have beguiled St. Peter.
The mounted men looked puzzled—still, whisky was whisky. The leader looked yearningly at the bottle, hesitated, spat out his tobacco, and wiped his lips with the back of his hand.
"Seein' as you're so perlite," he began, when one of the others observed:
"Say, brother, this yere blaze is spreadin' right smart. Fust thing you know the hull woods 'll be afire."
"I believe you're right," said Leyden. "Here, my friend," he handed the bottle to the leader, retraced his steps, and proceeded to tread out the growing conflagration while Giles led the horse forward. Meantime the bottle passed from. hand to hand. Leyden retraced his steps, still stamping out the flickering flames which had burned almost to the feet of the cavalcade.
"That's the right stuff!" observed the leader with a smack of his thin, cruel lips. "Boys, I reck'n we'd best be gettin' on."
"What's your nigger done?" asked Leyden.
"Same ole story … white woman! We'll git 'im
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