The kids played around while I unloaded the truck. And after I had finished my work, I took one of the sideboards from the truck, which was a two-by-eight twelve feet long, and I placed it across the buttment of the bridge. With me on one end and the kids on the other, I could see-saw them up and down and they could splash their feet in the water. What could be more fun to a three-year-old and a five-year-old? We had fun and all went well until time to load up and go home. Dennis was out on the end of the board and I told him to sit still and let Anita get up first and come to me out on the road, then it would be his turn. Well, Anita got up and was walking toward me when Dennis decided he wanted to be first. Nothing I could do or say would make him change his mind. I just couldn't get him to sit that extra few seconds. He got to his feet and tried to pass Anita on the eight-inch board. And of course, since Dennis was biggest, Anita went off into the water--head first. I couldn't turn loose of the board quickly and jump in after her; I had to hold on while Dennis came on out and got off the board. By this time Anita had come up again and I lowered the board to her. She crawled upon it and came out with mud in both hands and was laughing. Excitedly she said, "Daddy, me pick up mud mit me hands." It was not the time of year to go swimming because the weather and water were both too cold. But inside the truck cab, with the glasses up, it was hot. So I put Anita up in the seat with all her clothes off and she was comfortable right away. Her clothes dried out before we got home and we put them back on her. I sort of hoped that Ima wouldn't have to know about the accident, but do you think Anita could keep it secret? Goodness no! She had to go and tell Ima the whole story, in her own small way. I worked off-and-on for Calvin Carriker all the years we lived at Royston. Along with his farming he also operated a grocery store, a filling station, and the post office. Ed Lewis worked full time for Calvin for years, and at one time was driving a stripped down Model T Ford, and there was something wrong with the T which Ed had not been able to remedy. At slow speed it skipped on one cylinder; at high speed it ran okay. When I speak of high and low speeds, I'm speaking in the neighborhood of, "Under ten miles an hour it skipped and over fifteen it didn't." One day after a rain, Calvin asked me why didn't I help Ed, and the two of us get the old car to running better, since it was too wet to work in the field. I asked Ed what all he had done to the motor, and after he told me, I told him it had a broken piston. But Ed said he had looked at the pistons when he had the head off grinding the valves, and the pistons were okay.