" Lawd, I wTinda, who kilt John Henry, 

 In de la-ane, in de lane." 



Half an hour later we were filing through 

 the corn-stubs toward the creek. Uncle Jethro 

 carried his long musket under his arm ; I had a 

 stout hickory stick and a meal-sack ; while ahead 

 of us, like a sailor on shore, rolled Calamity, the 

 old possum-dog. 



If in June come perfect days, then perfect 

 nights come in November. There is one thing, 

 at least, as rare as a June day, and that is a clear, 

 keen November night, enameled with frost and 

 set with the hunter's moon. 



Uncle Jethro was not thinking of last summer's 



camp-meeting now ; but still he crooned softly a 



camp-meeting melody : 



" Sheep an' de goats a- 

 Gwine to de pastcha, 

 Sheep tell de goats, ' Ain't yo' 

 Walk a leetle fasta ? ' 



" Lawd, I wunda, who kilt John Henry, 

 In de la-ane, in de lane. 



" Ooon he up a gum-tree. 

 Possum in de holla; 

 Coon he roll hi' self in ha'r. 

 Possum roll in talla. 



" Lawd, I wunda — " 



[12] 



