On the outskirts of the crowd, here and there, under the friendly shade of some wide spreading tree, could be seen a darkey busily engaged in vending watermelons and cool drinks. Coatless and hatless, with shirt wide open at neck and chest, and sleeves rolled elbow high, he transferred the luscious fruit from his wagon to the eager throng about him; while he passed compliments without stint upon the unbleached domestics who came to “trade” with him, not forgetting to occasionally lift his voice and proclaim the superior quality of his stock, verifying his assurances by taking capacious mouthfuls from the severed melon lying on the top of the load. Without ceremony, the darkeys, male and female, swarmed about the vender, some seating themselves in picturesque ease upon the ground in pairs and groups. There were mulattos and octoroons of light and darker shades, to the type of glossy blackness, discussing last week’s church “festival,” to-morrow’s funeral, the Methodists’ protracted meeting which begins one Christmas and lasts till the next. In astonishing quantities did the “culled folks” stow away “red meat” and “white meat,” and with juice trickling from the corners of their mouths down over their best raiment, gave ready ear to the vender’s broad jokes and joined in his loud laughter, showing, as only negroes can, their ready appreciation of the feast and holiday. Their hilarity kept up an undiminished flow until the participants were called to serve the midday meal for the “white folks.” Hundreds partook of the delicious pig which had been roasted whole, that meat of which the poet wrote, “Send me, gods, a whole hog barbecued.” Animals spitted on pointed sticks sputtered and fizzled over a hole in the ground filled with live coals. Mindful attendants shifted the appetizing viands from side to side, seasoning them with salt, pepper, vinegar or lemon as the case might require, and when set forth, offered a feast as close to primitive nature as the trees under which it was served. CHAPTER VI. Very soon after the feast was ended, Elliott saw John Holmes and a party of men coming toward him. To a casual reader of the human countenance, it would be evident at a first glance that Holmes was a man of no small worldly knowledge, and as he now appeared with his companions one could discern that this superiority was recognized by them and that he held a certain position of authority, in fact that he was a man accustomed to rule rather than be ruled. As he approached Elliott, he addressed him with a pleased smile, saying: “I am glad to see you here, Mr. Harding. Maybe you can help us out of a difficulty.” “In what way?” asked Elliott, surprised.