On the Little Moccasin prairie the excitement and enjoyment of the negroes were at their greatest height. The feeling of awe toward the airplane had passed away. One by one they had climbed up into the seat. After a while they seated Skeeter Butts and Vinegar Atts in the machine, and every man that had paid his dollar and wore his feather in his cap took his turn at helping to push the airplane over the ground. It was followed by all the other negroes who shouted and whooped as it bumped along over the prairie like some awkward, stiff-legged, ridiculous bird which spurned the earth and felt like it was a disgrace to be upon the ground.
In the midst of this excitement, with its noise of laughter and the shouting, James Gannaway appeared at the edge of the swamp and looked out over the field with a real fear that he had never felt, even in the most dangerous situations in the air.
What he saw filled his heart with joy. No more fear that scouting planes had found the lost machine. All that the feathers in the hats of the negroes meant was that the blacks of Tickfall had found the hidden airplane. He waited until they had pushed the machine near to where he stood concealed in the dense foliage of the swamp. At that moment Vinegar Atts and Skeeter stood up from their seats in the machine and began to sing. It was one of the best-loved songs among the negroes, and that great crowd sent it echoing through the majestic forest with their mighty organ tones until James Gannaway wondered that the human voice could express such music.
“O come, angel band!
Come, an’ aroun’ me stand!
O bear me away on yo’ snowy wings
To my immortal home;
O bear me away on yo’ snowy wings
To my immortal home.”
At the conclusion of the song, for some reason, both Vinegar and Skeeter climbed out of the machine. Then Gannaway stepped forth, waved a dispersing hand, and exclaimed:
“You niggers, get to hell away from here!”
Nothing could have surprised the negroes more than the appearance of this white man. Up to that very moment they had never questioned that the machine belonged to the negro, Red Cutt. When they heard that voice of command and turned their startled eyes to Gannaway, they pushed backward in their fright and scattered across the prairie like so many chickens.
Gannaway sprang lightly into the machine and started the engine. Three times in rapid succession the engine back-fired, and the sound was so similar to the explosion of a big army pistol that the negroes believed the white man was shooting at them. Then came the steady exhaust of the engine, cracking like a rapid-fire machine-gun, and every negro fell flat on his face to dodge the bullets he thought were flying all around him.
The machine went hopping awkwardly across the long level stretch of ground, and the negroes raised their heads like so many black lizards, watching to see if the white man was shooting toward them.
A moment later five hundred negroes gave utterance to an astounded “Ah!”
Of that great crowd, Vinegar Atts and Red Cutt had seen the airplane land; if Skeeter Butts was not lying, he was the third of the crowd who had seen an airplane in the air. Not one of the others had ever witnessed such a flight, and this universal exclamation emerged from their throats when they saw the machine rise from the ground like a wild goose and go sailing over the tops of the trees.
Five hundred negroes lying flat upon the ground, with their noses almost touching the dirt, put their hands on the feathers in their hats, to be sure that their insignia of office had not departed with the machine, and repeated their exclamation: “Ah!”
Suddenly the entire forest seemed to become vocal and scream in fright. Thousands of birds rose from the trees and circled round and round in the air as if they were intoxicated. The smaller birds flew from tree to tree, moving in a straight line, all going in the same direction, as they do when fleeing before a cyclone. The pigeons and hawks shot straight up in the air and then tumbled over and over as they came down, as if both wings were broken. The great eagles rose like the fighting creatures they are and threshed madly about high up in the heavens, sending their ugly snarl-like cries down to the earth, while from countless pools in the swamp every sort of water fowl rose with hoarse croaking voices and added to the aerial tumult.
To the negroes it seemed that the very skies were dropping down upon them every feathered creature God had ever made. They saw fowls of the air that they did not know existed under the heavens, and they heard bird-voices expressing fright which possibly had never been heard by human beings before.
Somewhere outside of their range of vision the airplane was still moving, for they could hear the exhaust like a steady purr in the distance. Everywhere that the machine went it caused the same excitement among the birds, so that a great multitude of these winged creatures were in terrified flight.
The terror laid hold upon the animals in the swamp, for there suddenly rose in a mighty chorus the scream of the panther and the wailing bark of the wolf and the angry, frightened roar of the bear. All the animals in the vicinity of the Little Moccasin prairie very naturally ran toward that open space; if rapid flight was necessary, any land animal could travel faster where there were no vines or stumps or trees or marshy places to hinder flight.
A drove of wild hogs, numbering several hundred, traveling with the speed and noise of an express train, and, like the exhaust of an automobile, uttering at every jump their frightened exclamation: “Whoof, whoof, whoof!” swept across that prairie, and every negro flattened himself upon the ground where he was lying and bawled aloud his supplication to the Almighty: “Dat He wouldn’t let no wild hawg step on him!” The drove of hogs passed without damage.
Then three young de............