Under the leadership of Sour Sudds, the picnic party was eager to get into the picture.
“Is you gwine show us how to do, boss?” Sudds inquired.
“Certainly,” Rouke answered.
While Peter Pellet was adjusting his camera and placing his side lines, Rouke went into the fishing camp and brought out a small table and two chairs, which he placed in front of the camera.
“That won’t do, Pete!” he called, pointing to some lines which Pete had drawn in the sand. “You better get your cord and stretch it for your side lines like you do in the studio. These coons won’t pay any attention to a mark on the ground!”
Rouke hastened to the automobile and brought out a tray, two glasses, and a bottle of cheap wine, while Pellet readjusted his lines.
Then Vinegar Atts put in.
“Mister Rouke, I’s gwine be de umpire of dis here show because you an’ me done made a trade to dem effecks.”
“That’s right,” Rouke agreed, as his eyes ran over the crowd of negroes. “Get that black, dressy wench sitting beside that saddle-colored man!”
“Dat’s Laller an’ Skeeter!” Atts informed him.