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The old negro voo-doo doctor or fortune teller could fill any negro for whom she had formed a dislike with terror, and bring him to her feet begging for mercy by walking backward, making a cross with her heel and prophesying, "You'll walk Georgia road."
"Ah 's a voo-doo, an' ah don't care 'bout 'em tall, but good Lor', dar ain't no white man wants ter stay in des yere house mor'n one night." She laughed, a weird, grating laugh, and started downstairs. I stood still, watching her light disappear. Then, swearing at myself for a coward, stepped back into my own room, and closed the door. This revealment of conditions left me thoroughly puzzled.
"Ah'll cawncentrate now," replied Ambrose, "an' sho'tly you-all will witness ample proof of mah bein' a genuine Voo-doo. Ah's stahtin'." Silence more terrible than ever fell upon the waiting negroes. Then horror of horrors! a peculiar grating, rustling sound came from the vicinity of Ambrose a slight creaking and again silence.
When the garments were all finished they were shipped to the farm at Bolivar, to be ready for the fall and winter wear. In like manner the clothes for summer use were made in winter. It was the custom in those days for slaves to carry voo-doo bags.
"Look!" gasped the affrighted one. "Look! It's de Voo-doo Eye dat man's a witch! Ambrose, fo' de Lawd's sake, git away from hyar!" "What you-all talkin' about?" scoffed Ambrose, striding closer, and rolling Dominique so that the light shone full on his back. "What you-all talkin' Good Lawd"! This last ejaculation from Ambrose was caused by the sight that met his gaze.
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