"One of them nigger teachers."
"Well, they'll stop this damn riding around or they'll hear something," and they rode slowly by.
Miss Taylor felt rather than heard their words, and she was uncomfortable. The sun fell fast; the long shadows of the swamp swept soft coolness on the red road. Then afar in front a curled cloud of white dust arose and out of it came the sound of galloping horses.
"Who's this?" asked Miss Taylor.
"The Cresswells, I think; they usually ride to town about this time." But already Miss Taylor had descried the brown and tawny sides of the speeding horses.
"Good gracious!" she thought. "The Cresswells!" And with it came a sudden desire not to meet them--just then. She glanced toward the swamp. The sun was sifting blood-red lances through the trees. A little wagon-road entered the wood and disappeared. Miss Taylor saw it.
"Let's see the sunset in the swamp," she said suddenly. On came the galloping horses. Bles looked up in surprise, then silently turned into the swamp. The horses flew by, their hoof-beats dying in the distance. A dark green silence lay about them lit by mighty crimson glories beyond. Miss Taylor leaned back and watched it dreamily till a sense of oppression grew on her. The sun was sinking fast.
"Where does this road come out?" she asked at last.
"It doesn't come out."
"Where does it go?"
"It goes to Elspeth's."
"Why, we must turn back immediately. I thought--" But Bles was already turning. They were approaching the main road again when there came a fluttering as of a great bird beating its wings amid the forest. Then a girl, lithe, dark brown, and tall, leaped lightly into the path with greetings on her lips for Bles. At the sight of the lady she drew suddenly back and stood motionless regarding Miss Taylor, searching her with wide black liquid eyes. Miss Taylor was a little startled.
"Good--good-evening," she said, straightening herself.
The girl was still silent and the horse stopped. One tense moment pulsed through all the swamp. Then the girl, still motionless--still looking Miss Taylor through and through--said with slow deliberateness: "I hates you."
The teacher in Miss Taylor strove to rebuke this unconventional greeting but the woman in her spoke first and asked almost before she knew it-"Why?"