the enemy of white men.

_Thirty-five_

At the same time that the colonel, dry-eyed and heavy-hearted, had
returned to his empty house to nurse his grief, another series of
events was drawing to a climax in the dilapidated house on Mink Run.
Even while the preacher was saying the last words over little Phil's
remains, old Malcolm Dudley's illness had taken a sudden and violent
turn. He had been sinking for several days, but the decline had been
gradual, and there had seemed no particular reason for alarm. But
during the funeral exercises Ben had begun to feel uneasy--some
obscure premonition warned him to hurry homeward.

As soon as the funeral was over he spoke to Dr. Price, who had been
one of the pallbearers, and the doctor had promised to be at Mink Run
in a little while. Ben rode home as rapidly as he could; as he went up
the lane toward the house a Negro lad came forward to take charge of
the tired horse, and Ben could see from the boy's expression that he
had important information to communicate.

"Yo' uncle is monst'ous low, sir," said the boy. "You bettah go in an'
see 'im quick, er you'll be too late. Dey ain' nobody wid 'im but ole
Aun' Viney."

Ben hurried into the house and to his uncle's room, where Malcolm
Dudley lay dying. Outside, the sun was setting, and his red rays,
shining through the trees into the open window, lit the stage for the
last scene of this belated drama. When Ben entered the room, the sweat
of death had gathered on the old man's brow, but his eyes, clear with
the light of reason, were fixed upon old Viney, who stood by the
bedside. The two were evidently so absorbed in their own thoughts as
to be oblivious to anything else, and neither of them paid the
slightest attention to Ben, or to the scared Negro lad, who had
followed him and stood outside the door. But marvellous to hear, Viney
was talking, strangely, slowly, thickly, but passionately and
distinctly.

"You had me whipped," she said. "Do you remember that? You had me
whipped--whipped--whipped--by a poor white dog I had despised and
spurned! You had said that you loved me, and you had promised to free
me--and you had me whipped! But I have had my revenge!"

Her voice shook with passion, a passion at which Ben wondered. That
his uncle and she had once been young he knew, and that their
relations had once been closer than those of master and servant; but
this outbreak of feeling from the wrinkled old mulattress seem