THE BLACK MAN'S TURN Closer to the earth Tom tried to burrow.

As to a plan, Tom Reade had none now, save to watch, and, if possible, to learn something that he did not already know.
Soft-footed, despite his great bulk, the negro approached with an air of little concern.

Plainly, the wretch did not much fear discovery---still less interference.
Humming an old plantation melody the negro reached his concealed magneto, then stood up for a brief moment, staring seaward in the direction from which he had just come.

His garments dripped water; his whole appearance was bedraggled, yet there was something utterly shaggy, majestic, in this huge specimen of the human race.
"Ah done reckon dem gemmen gwine lose some mo' of deir wall to-night," chuckled the negro softly.
"Go as far as you like, Mr.Sambo Ebony!" grinned Tom Reade, under his breath.

"I've wished something else on you this time." Carelessly the negro bent over his magneto, seized the handle and gave a push.
Then he straightened up, listening.