"Play!" he shouted. "Play for your worthless life!"
Horatio did not need to be told again. He reached for the violin and bow, and sitting in the now solid sugar struck the strings wildly.
"Rooster in de chicken coop, crowin' foh day;
Horses in de stable goin' 'Nay, nay, nay;'
Ducks in de yard goin' 'Quack, quack, quack!'
Guineas in de tree tops, goin' 'Rack-pot-rack!'"
Horatio fiddled furiously, while Bo shouted and sang and the crowd joined in. They all knew this song, and as they sang they forgot all else. Axes and guns and clubs were dropped as young and old fell into the swing of the music.
"Keemo, kimo, kilgo, kayro;
Fleero, fliro, flav-o-ray;
Rop strop, periwinkle, little yaller nigger,
Cum a rop strop bottle till de break—of—day!"
You could hear the noise for a mile. They danced and shouted and sang, and work was forgotten. After a long time, when they were tired out, Bo took one of the axes and carefully broke the now solid sugar away from Ratio's feet and set him free. Then they brought water and washed his hind paws and he danced for them.
After dinner, when the friends started out on their journey, the crowd followed them for nearly a mile. When all were gone Horatio turned to Bo and said:—
"I am glad you came just as you did, Bo."
"I should rather think you would be," said Bo, grimly.