"Yer'd better git outn dat water," he called, as soon as he saw the children. "Yer'll all be havin' de croup nex'. Git out, I tell yer! Efn yer don't, I gwine straight an' tell yer pa." It needed no second bidding, and the little girls scrambled up the bank, and, drying their feet as best they could upon their skirts, they put on their shoes and stockings. "What are you doin', Uncle Bob?" called Diddie. "I'm jes er cuttin' me er few willers fur ter make baskit-handles outn." "Can't we come an' look at yer?" asked Diddie. "Yes, honey, efn yer wants ter," replied Uncle Bob, mightily pleased. "You're all pow'ful fon' er dis ole nigger; you're allers wantin' ter be roun' him." "It's 'cause you always tell us tales, an' don't quar'l with us," replied Diddie, as the children drew near the old man, and watched him cut the long willow branches. "Uncle Bob," asked Dumps, "what was that you was singin' 'bout the jay bird?" "Lor', honey, hit wuz jes 'boutn 'im dyin' wid de hookin'-coff; but yer better lef' dem jay birds erlone; yer needn' be er wantin' ter hyear boutn 'em." "Why, Uncle Bob?" "Caze, honey, dem jay birds dey cyars news ter de deb'l, dey do; an' yer better not fool 'long 'em." "Do they tell him everything?" asked Diddie, in some solicitude. "Dat dey do! Dey tells 'im e'bything dey see you do wat ain't right; dey cyars hit right erlong ter de deb'l." "Uncle Bob," said Dumps, thoughtfully, "s'posin' they wuz some little girls l-o-n-g _time_ ergo what stole ernuther little girl outn the winder, an' then run'd erway, an' waded in er ditch, what they Mammy never would let 'em; efn er jay bird would see 'em, would he tell the deb'l nuthin' erbout it?" "Lor', honey, dat 'ud be jes nuts fur 'im; he'd light right out wid it; an' he wouldn't was'e no time, nuther, he'd be so fyeard he'd furgit part'n it." [Illustration: "YER'LL ALL BE HAVIN' DE CROUP NEXT."] "I don't see none 'bout hyear," said Dumps, looking anxiously up at the trees. "They don't stay 'bout hyear much, does they, Uncle Bob?" "I seed one er settin' on dat sweet-gum dar ez I come up de ditch," said Uncle Bob. "He had his head turnt one side, he did, er lookin' mighty hard at you chil'en, an' I 'lowed ter myse'f now I won'er wat is he er watchin' dem chil'en fur? but, den, I knowed _you_ chil'en wouldn't do nuffin wrong, an' I knowed he wouldn't have nuffin fur ter tell." "Don't he never make up things an' tell 'em?" asked Dumps. "I ain't neber hyeard boutn dat," said the old man. "Efn he do, or efn he don't, I can't say, caze I ain't neber hyeard; but de bes' way is fur ter keep 'way fum 'em." "Well, I bet he do," said Dumps. "I jes bet he tells M-O-O-O-R-E S-T-O-R-I-E-S than anybody. An', Uncle Bob, efn he tells the deb'l sump'n 'boutn three little white girls an' three little niggers runnin' erway fum they teacher an' wadin' in er ditch, then I jes b'lieve _he made it up_! Now that's jes what I b'lieve; an' can't you tell the deb'l so, Uncle Bob?"