A goodly number of the more ghost-fearing give up the sport; but a full hundred move forward at a run, doubling their devilish howling and banging.
Yes; it is a lantern, and there are two persons under the tree.

The crowd draws near--drops into a walk; one of the two is the old African mute; he lifts the lantern up so that it shines on the other; the crowd recoils; there is a hush of all clangor, and all at once, with a cry of mingled fright and horror from every throat, the whole throng rushes back, dropping every thing, sweeping past little White and hurrying on, never stopping until the jungle is left behind, and then to find that not one in ten has seen the cause of the stampede, and not one of the tenth is certain what it was.
There is one huge fellow among them who looks capable of any villany.

He finds something to mount on, and, in the Creole _patois_, calls a general halt.

Bienvenu sinks down, and, vainly trying to recline gracefully, resigns the leadership.

The herd gather round the speaker; he assures them that they have been outraged.