Argosy, Volume XXIII — Index Page, 1897 — page 171: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

HOODOO SAM. 741 leaped in him ; with the next breath there was disappointment. A louder cry—harsh, croaking—drew his eyes to the shelf above the chimney. A buzzard roosted there—its red, wrinkled neck stretched out in anger at being disturbed. It was the buzzard’s cry he had heard before. He felt sure of this ; yet he longed to call again, only he was afraid he should be heard by Sam, who might be returning. He replaced the bit of daubing, and looked around for a hiding place. In a corner of the small inclosure was a heap of pine knots and palmetto roots, piled there for fuel. He lay down close behind them and waited for the African. It seemed to him he lay there a long time with the slow rain soaking through his clothes. At last he heard a heavy tread on the sodden ground, and next the rattling of chains as Sam unfastened first the gate and then the door of his domain. He dashed the door open with an oath. He was in a rage over his disappointment. Presently he called his dog. The brute, lying in the rain, had partly recovered from the stunning blow; he got up slowly and obeyed his master’s summons, receiving a kick as he slunk into the cabin. Then Sam shut the door of his hut and fastened it. The rain increased to a heavy shower... Its rattle on the board roof of the hut prevented any sound of footsteps being heard, as Brock crept up to the back of the house. Cautiously he applied his eye to the crack. Sam had taken off the pot, and poured its contents into a wooden tray. ‘This he placed on a stool, and sitting on the floor beside it, he was devouring the steaming, savory meat, stripping it, with his big teeth, from the bones he held in his right hand, and now and then taking bites of the corn ashcake he held in his left. He ate rapidly, like some carnivorous beast, flinging the bones to the dog. When he had finished, he got on his feet, shoved the tray and stool to one side, and wiped his greasy face on the sleeve of his filthy shirt. He stood for a minute, listening to the rain and mumbling to himself. Then he took up a spade, and inserting its edge in one of the cracks between the split logs that formed the floor, lifted one of the logs and flung it to one side. He squatted beside the space it left ; stooping lower, he thrust his long, ape-like arms into what seemed a hole or pit under the floor and lifted out something wrapped in a coarse blanket. The folds of the grimy cloth fell away as the negro raised the bundle, and Brock came near shouting aloud as he saw the flaxen head and white face of little Rob. He thought the child was dead until he saw the round eyes were wide open, and fixed in a stare of wild terror upon the face of his negro captor. , : Hoodoo Sam put the child on the floor. ‘‘Set up,’ he said, giving the limp figure a shake. He got some food from the tray and put it into the boy’s hand, telling him to eat. But Rob did not move ; he seemed too dazed to comprehend. ‘“Kat,’’ growled the negro. ‘‘I make Boogger bite you.’’ —The child’s scared eyes sent a look across the room to the cage where the snake lay ; then, with a spasmodic jerk, the small hand clutched the bread and went to the trembling mouth. But the effort to eat broke off in a sob. CONMIE NOO<S (EC) 12)