"I did notice and I certainly thank you, Sam. Well, how would you like to be my carriage man?"
"Miss Scarlett, thankee, Ma'm, but Ah specs Ah better go ter Tara."
Big Sam looked down and his bare toe traced aimless marks in the road. There was a furtive uneasiness about him.
"Now, why? I'll pay you good wages. You must stay with me."
The big black face, stupid and as easily read as a child's, looked up at her and there was fear in it. He came closer and, leaning over the side of the buggy, whispered: "Miss Scarlett, Ah got ter git outer 'Lanta. Ah got ter git ter Tara whar dey woan fine me. Ah—Ah done kilt a man."
"A darky?"
"No'm. A w'ite man. A Yankee sojer and dey's lookin' fer me. Dat de reason Ah'm hyah at Shantytown."
"How did it happen?"
"He wuz drunk an' he said sumpin' Ah
