By the aid of his bloodhound Perkins discovered that some one whom he believed to be Chunk had been about, and he had secret misgivings as he thought of the negro’s close proximity.  He had already learned what a blow Chunk could deal and his readiness to strike.  Taking the dog and his gun he had cautiously followed the run into which the tracks led until satisfied that the man he was following had taken horse and was beyond pursuit.  On his return he learned of Miss Lou’s illness and so ventured to threaten Aun’ Jinkey.

“Yer do know ‘bout that cussed grandson o’ yourn.  Kyant fool Grip, en he’ smelled out all the nigger’s tracks.  Now ef yer don’t tell the truth I’ll raise the kentry ‘roun’ en we’ll hunt ’im to the eends of the yearth.”

“Well den, Marse Perkins,” admitted the terror-stricken woman, “I des tell you de truf.  Dat gran’boy ob min’ des come ter say good-by.  Marse Scoville daid en Chunk mos’ up Norf by dis time, he went away so sud’n.”

“That Yankee cuss dead?” cried Perkins in undisguised exultation.

“Marse Scoville daid, shot of’n he hoss long way f’um yere,” replied Aun’ Jinkey sorrowfully.  “He kyant harm you ner you ‘im no mo’, ner Chunk neider.”

“Why the devil didn’t you let us know Chunk was here las’ night?”

“He my gran’son,” was the simple reply.

“Well he isn’t Zany’s grandson!  Now I know w’at she was snoopin’ round nights fer, en Mrs. Baron’ll know, too, ’fore I’m five minutes older.”

Aun’ Jinkey threw up her hands and sank back into her chair more dead than alive.  She, too, had been taxed beyond endurance and all her power to act had ceased with her final effort to show that pursuit of Chunk would be useless.

Perkins speedily obtained an audience with Mrs. Baron, who became deeply incensed and especially against Zany.  The inexorable old lady, however, never acted from passion.  She nodded coldly to the overseer, saying, “I will inform Mr. Baron and he will give you your orders in regard to the offenders.”

Zany was too alert not to observe the interview and the omens of trouble in the compressed lips of “ole miss” and the steel-like gleam of her eyes.  The moment Mrs. Baron was closeted with her husband the girl sped to the cabin.  “Did you tell Perkins Chunk been yere?” she demanded fiercely.

“Fo’ de Lawd I des gwine all ter pieces,” gasped Aun’ Jinkey.

“Hope ter grashus yer does, en de pieces neber come tergedder agin,” said Zany in contemptuous anger and deep alarm.

Under the spur of tremendous excitement she hastened back, thinking as she ran, “Miss Lou too sick ter do anyting.  I des got ter ’peal ter Miss Whately, er ole miss hab me whipped haf ter daith.”  When in response to a timid knock Mrs. Whately peered out of her niece’s room she found a trembling suppliant with streaming eyes.  Noiselessly shutting the door the matron said warningly: 

“Don’t you know Miss Lou’s life depends on quiet?”