When the boys arrived at the edge of the water, Jerry was catching tadpoles, having sunk the body of his foe. Black John Smith never recovered from the humiliating defeat and death of his rooster. The beginning of the end had come. STRANGE VISION OF ARABELLA The colored people within a radius of twenty-five miles of Reding Springs camp ground, Union county, congregate there once a year, generally in August, after the crops are laid by, for a big religious revival. At Reding Springs they are far removed from white people, and surrounded by forests. They can camp out, eat, drink, preach and sing to their hearts’ content without molesting anyone. Sometimes the meetings are brought to sudden conclusions by free-for-all fights, started by bullies, with rocks, pistols and razors, but this is an unusual thing for the good darkies of that section strive to keep down any unlawful disturbances. Old Satan, shrewd and alert always, enters the home of God’s people occasionally and makes mischief. So it is at Reding Springs now and then. [Illustration: _Arabella the Day After._] For almost a half century Reding Springs has been a popular camping place for the negroes of the Sandy Ridge region. They gather there and remain for weeks, worshiping according to their lights. Thousands of persons camp there during the meeting. They make the neighborhood dark with their presence and resound with their music. The Reding Springs meetings are not for the city-bred negro, with his lofty airs and college training, but for the country negro. There he feels at home, where he goes once every twelve months to repent of his sins, give in his experience and shout until weary. The religious enthusiast can sing, preach, pray or participate in any other seemly way in the services without restrictions. The parson reads his text, closes the Bible, and preaches from memory. He gives out the hymns line at a time, and leads in the singing, young and old, saint and sinner joining to make the welkin ring, no one feeling constrained to curb his voice, the more force applied the better, volume, not quality, being demanded. Dear reader, if you have followed me so far, don’t turn back now, for it is my purpose to tell you about Arabella Simpkins, the prophetess of the Reding Springs section. She was the sage of the community. The negroes feared her, and their fear was of the sort that made them want to get closer to her.