Sooky licked de ladle, An’ de baby rocked de cradle. Rock—— Billy interrupted him, saying: “Howdy, Uncle Stephen?” The old man was glad to see him, nervous and startled, too, for he had not gotten over his witch fright. “Po’ly, Billy, ve’y po’ly; pow’ful mis’ry in meh back an’ legs.” Billy said, in an innocent sort of way: “I jes’ bought fum Kent County de fines’ kin’ ub coon dog—cross ’tween uh houn’ an’ rat-tan-terrier—an’ I drap in ter arsk ef’n you won’ teck uh hunt wid me in Haylan’ Branch to-night. Tell me hit’s full ub coons, an’ uh hunt mout do yo’ back good.” Uncle Stephen gave Billy a solemn, stern look and said: “I wan’ nuffin ter do wid coons, ’possums er ’coon dogs. Scip’ Jones an’ John Poney dey bof exerted me. I’s los’ meh tase fuh night hun’in’; an’ when you heah de ’po’t ub de witch committee, you will sell yo’ dog, kase when dat ’po’t gits knowed, da won’ be no use fuh coon dogs, leas’wise ’roun’ heah. I had uh talk wid Caesar Butler yistiddy, an’ he say: ‘He sho’ dat Haylan’ Branch witch tuck an’ stole he ’possum fum de ashes lars’ fall, an’ bin stealin’ he oystus all wintah.’ Now de wexin’ quession is, What we gwine ter do? Hit wud not s’prise me ef’n I move fum de county.” “Uncle Stephen, what wuz de ’port ub de witch committee?” “Well, dey met lars’ night over Bennett Tumlinson’s wheelwright shop. Pawson Demby wuz chusen ter teck de cheah. Den we hed uh long composation an’ hit wuz ’cided dat ghos’es may lib in cows’ hohns, but witches don’—leas’wise de breed dat’s in Haylan’ Branch. We also ’cide dat ef’n all de cowhohns in Miles Ribber Neck wuz made inter one hohn, hit wud be too small fuh de witch ub Haylan’ Branch ter ’pose in. Hit wuz also ’cluded dat de sperrit in Haylan’ Branch wuz uh witch, kase hit hab whiskuhs, an’ ghos’es don’ hab whiskuhs. Pawson Demby say he sho’ hit’s de same breed ub witches dat’s spok’ ub in Samuel de Fus’, and dat we mus’ stop coon hun’in’, hintimate Saul, an’ all go ter witch hun’in’ an’ witch killin’. Dat de Bible ’splicitly spressify in de book ub Ex-odus: ‘Thou shal’ not suffah uh witch ter lib.’ Pawson Demby mus’ be mustakin’. Hit kyant be de same breed ub witches Saul kilt, an’ ef’n dey is, dey’s grown monstus since dem days; an’ I bleebe ’sted ub de brudders ub Zion Chuch ’stroyin’ de witches, de witches will ’stroy de brudders. Talk ’bout babtizin’ in de presence ub shirks! I’d rudder sleep wid shirks dan see dat witch ergin. Hits de lars’ time I’s gwine on any committee! Mo’n dat, I’s made up meh min’ ter jine uh chuch dat don’ ’low coon huntin’, an dat chuch is de Presbyters.”