"It's the way we school-children talk when we don't want anybody to know what we are saying. Johnny asked me where I was going, and I told him I was going to Savannah to see Gabriel." "Did he know what you said?" "Why, he couldn't help but know, but he didn't believe it; he said it was a fib." "Well, I'll be jigged!" exclaimed Mr. Sanders. "Call that boy over here." Cephas turned around--they had passed the house where the little boy lived--and called out: "Onnaja! Onnaja! Stermera Andersa antwasa ota eesa ooya." The small boy came running, though there was a doubtful look on his face. He had frequently been the victim of Cephas's practical jokes. Mr. Sanders questioned him closely, and he confirmed the interpretation of the lingo which Cephas had given to Mr. Sanders. "Do you mean to tell me," said Mr. Sanders to Cephas when they had dismissed the small boy, "that this kinder thing has been goin' on right under my nose, an' I not knowin' a word about it? How'd you pick up the lingo?" "Gabriel teached it to me," replied Cephas. "He talks it better than any of the boys, and I come next." This last remark Cephas made with a blush. "Do I look pale, my son?" inquired Mr. Sanders, mopping his red face with his handkerchief. Cephas gave a negative reply by shaking his head. "Well, I may not look pale, but I shorely feel pale. You'll have to loan me your arm, Cephas; I feel like Christopher Columbus did when he discovered Atlanta, Ga." "Why, he didn't discover Atlanta, Mr. Sanders," protested Cephas. "He didn't!" exclaimed Mr. Sanders. "Well, it was his own fault ef he didn't. All he had to do was to read the country newspapers. But that's neither here nor thar. Here I've been buttin' my head ag'in trees, an' walkin' in my sleep tryin' for to study up some plan to git word to Gabriel, an' here you walk along the street an' make me a present of the very thing I want, an' I ain't even thanked you for it." Cephas couldn't guess what Mr. Sanders was driving at, and he asked no questions. His mind was too full of his proposed trip. When the proposition was first broached to Cephas's mother, she scouted the idea of allowing her boy to make the journey. He was all she had, and should anything happen to him--well, the world wouldn't be the same world to her. And it was so far away; why, she had heard some one say that Savannah was right on the brink of the ocean--that great monster that swallowed ships and men by the thousand, and was just as hungry afterward as before. But Cephas began to cry, saying that he wanted to see Gabriel; and Mr. Sanders told Gabriel's side of the story. Between the two, the poor woman had no option but to say that she'd consider the matter, and when a woman begins to consider--well, according to the ancient philosophers, it's the same as saying yes.