without a word or a
backward glance, set his face toward the hills, leaving an awkward,
wistful girl watching him with her tears only half obscuring the vision
that was already dawning for her.

HOODOOED

Gordon Lee Surrender Jones lay upon what he confidently claimed to be
his death-bed. Now and again he glanced furtively at the cabin door and
listened. Being assured that nobody was coming, he cautiously extricated
a large black foot from the bedclothes, and, holding it near the candle,
laboriously tied a red string about one of his toes. He was a powerful
negro, with a close-cropped bullet-head, a massive bulldog jaw, and a
pair of incongruously gentle and credulous eyes.

According to his own diagnosis, he was suffering from "asmy, bronketers,
pneumony, grip, diabeters, and old age." The last affliction was hardly
possible, as Gordon Lee was probably born during the last days of the
Civil War, though he might have been eighty, for all he knew to the
contrary. In addition to his acknowledged ailments, there was one he
cherished in secret. It was by far the most mysterious and deadly of the
lot, a malady to be pondered on in the dark watches of the night, to be
treated with weird rites and ceremonies, and to be cured only by some
specialist versed in the deepest lore of witchcraft; for Gordon Lee knew
beyond the faintest shadow of a doubt that a hoodoo had been laid upon
him.

Of course, like most of his race, he had had experiences in this line
before; but this was different. In fact, it was no less a calamity than
a cricket in his leg. Just how the cricket got into his leg was a matter
too deep for human speculation; but the fact that it was there, and that
it hopped with ease from knee to ankle, and made excruciating excursions
into his five toes, was as patent as the toes themselves.

What complicated the situation for Gordon Lee was that he could not
discuss this painful topic with his wife. Amanda Jones had embarked on
the higher education, and had long ago thrown overboard her old
superstitions. She was not only Queen Mother of the Sisters of the
Order of the Star, and an officer in various church societies, but she
was also a cook in the house of Mrs. James Bertram, President of the
State Federation of Women's Clubs. The crumbs of wisdom that fell from
the lips of the great Mrs. Bertram were carefully preserved by Amanda,
and warmed over, with sundry garnishings of her own, for the various
colore