“Des er few buckeyes, honey,” answered the old man. “What you goin’ ter du with ’em?” asked Dumps, as the little girls joined him in his search. “Well, I don’t want ter die no drunkard, myse’f,” said Uncle Bob, whose besetting sin was love of whiskey. “Does buckeyes keep folks from dying drunkards?” asked Dumps. “Dat’s wat dey sez; an’ I ’lowed I’d lay me in er few caze I’ve allers hyearn dat dem folks wat totes a buckeye in dey lef’ britches pocket, an’ den ernudder in de righthan’ coat pocket, dat dey ain’t gwine die no drunkards.” “But if they would stop drinkin’ whiskey they wouldn’t die drunkards anyhow, would they, Uncle Bob?” “Well, I dunno, honey; yer pinnin’ de ole nigger mighty close; de whiskey mout hab sump’n ter do wid it; I ain’t ’sputin’ dat—but wat I stan’s on is dis: dem folks wat I seed die drunk, dey nuber had no buckeyes in dey pockets; caze I ’members dat oberseer wat Marse Brunson had, he died wid delirums treums, an’ he runned, he did, fur ter git ’way fum de things wat he seed atter him; an’ he jumped into de riber, an’ got drownded; an’ I wuz dar wen dey pulled ’im out; an’ I sez ter Brer John Small, who wuz er standin’ dar, sez I, now I lay yer he ain’t got no buckeyes in his pockets; and wid dat me’n Brer John we tuck’n turnt his pockets wrong side outerds; an’ bless yer soul, chile, hit wuz jes like I say; DAR WAN’T NO BUCKEYES DAR! Well, I’d b’lieved in de ole sayin’ befo’, but dat jes kin’ter sot me on it fas’er ’n eber; an’ I don’t cyar wat de wedder is, nor wat de hurry is; hit may rain an’ hit may shine, an’ de time may be er pressin’, but ole Rob he don’t stir out’n his house mornin’s ’cep’n he’s got buckeyes in his pockets. But I seed ’em gittin’ ready fur dinner as I comed erlong, an’ you chil’en better be er gittin’ toerds de table.” That was enough for the little folks, and they hurried back to the creek. The table was formed by driving posts into the ground, and laying planks across them, and had been fixed up the day before by some of the men. The dinner was excellent—barbecued mutton and shote and lamb and squirrels, and very fine “gumbo,” and plenty of vegetables and watermelons and fruits, and fresh fish which the negroes had caught in the seine, for none of the anglers had been successful. Everybody was hungry, for they had had very early breakfast, and, besides, it had been a fatiguing day, for most of the negroes had walked the three miles, and then had danced and played games nearly all the morning, and so they were ready for dinner. And everybody seemed very happy and gay except Mammy; she had been so upset at the children’s torn dresses and dirty faces that she could not regain her good-humor all at once; and then, too, Dumps had lost her sun-bonnet, and there were some unmistakable freckles across her little nose, and so Mammy looked very cross, and grumbled a good deal, though her appetite seemed good, and she did full justice to the barbecue.