A LOST FEBRUARY 



not fresh," said Kellogg, and placed the egg to his 

 ear again with the same result. This was too much 

 for the old woman; with a half -angry, half-alarmed 

 look, she reached forth her hand and said, " Gi' me 

 dat egg," and hurrying it into her basket, hastened 

 into the ford. The others followed, and the boys 

 got the exposure they wanted. 



About mid-forenoon we overtook a colored man 

 with the inevitable machete, going to his work. We 

 walked with him a mile or more. He was a cheery, 

 bright, companionable sort of a man. His name was 

 John Good. He was going to grub out and clean 

 off a bit of land which he had near the river. 



"Are you married, John Good ? " I asked. 



" No, sah, not yet." 



"Have you any children, John ? " 



"Yes, sah, two." 



John was Uving with the mother of his children, 

 but as yet he had neglected the ceremony of mar- 

 riage. 



We wanted a bath, so John conducted us to a 

 large, beautiful, blue pool in the river, shaded by 

 bamboo, where we had our first Jamaican swim. 

 How delicious the water was, like that of our mid- 

 summer trout streams far from their source. John 

 said he would catch us a fish, a mullet, with his 

 hands. The feat seemed impossible in such a large, 

 deep pool, but our black comrade came near doing 

 it. We could see his dark form darting about at the 

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