"I hain't noways superstitious," he mused complacently, "but this grove ain't no nice place, bein' as it must be a nigger cemetery. Uncle Dick Siddon says they's always niggers buried whar they's persimmon-trees, an' he says the niggers come first. An' Uncle Dick, he ought to know, bein' he's eighty-odd-year old. Anyhow, it seems reasonable, 'cause niggers do swaller the stuns when they eats persimmons, an' so, o' course, jest nacher'ly the trees 'll spring up where the niggers git planted. So they'd be ha'nts like's not. But I hain't superstitious--not a mite. Mr. Sutton, he said such things as ha'nts an' witch-doctors an' such was all plumb foolishness. Still, my mammy has seen--"
He fell silent, recalling old wives' tales of fearsome things seen and heard of nights. The shoes adjusted, he took from the black bag a holster, which sheltered a formidable-appearing Colt's revolver. Having made sure that the weapon was loaded and in perfect order, Zeke returned it to the holster, which he put on snugly under the left arm-pit. These final preparations complete, he got up, and hastened into the town.
One bit more of his musings he spoke aloud, just before he entered the main street: "No, I hain't superstitious. But, by crickey! I'm plumb tickled I giv Plutiny thet fairy cross. They say them stones is shore lucky."
At the railway station, Zeke asked for a ticket to Norfolk.
"Want a return-trip ticket?" the friendly station-agent suggested. He supposed the young mountaineer was taking a pleasure excursion to the city.
But Zeke shook his head defiantly, and spoke with utter forgetfulness of his experience in Joines' store.
"No," he declared stoutly, "I hain't a-comin' back till I've made my fortin."
"You'll be a long time gone from this-here State o' Wilkes," the agent vouchsafed dryly. He would have said more, but his shrewd eyes saw in this young man's expression something that bade him pause, less sceptical. The handsome and wholesome face showed a strength of its own in the resolute curving nose and the firmly-set lips and the grave, yet kindly, eyes, with a light of purposeful intelligence glowing within their clear deeps. The tall form, broad of shoulder, deep of chest, narrow of hip, though not yet come to the fulness of maturity, was of the evident strength fitted to toil hugely at the beck of its owner's will. The agent, conscious of a puny frame that had served him ill in life's struggle, experienced a half-resentment against this youth's physical excellence. He wondered, if, after all, the boast might be justified by the event.