On Monday, when I asked him, he said he didn't go out Saturday night, as it was too close to Sunday and he had to prepare for church. I thought that quite proper and only said incidentally, as it were:—
"And you did not go last night?"
"Oh, no, ma'am; not Sunday night. I wouldn't do sich a t'ing."
I thought how careful Gibbie was to observe the Fourth Commandment, as they begin their operations about 2 A.M., but I said nothing and left the garden where he was working. As I left he turned to Goliah and took out of his pocket a five-dollar bill and said:—
"Look w'at I make Saturday en Sunday night!"
Goliah told Chloe how Gibbie had showed him the money and told him that no night since he had the boat had he made less than $2. This evening I told him I could not let him have the boat any more, as he had been so unsuccessful.
He raised his voice and declared solemnly he hadn't been out but the one night and had given me three birds, which he intimated was handsome, and talked on in an injured voice. I only laughed and said I was sorry he was so unlucky; that I could not lend my boat any more.
They take lightwood torches and thresh the bushes with a long rod or switch and kill the birds, often getting two or three bushels in a night, which they sell to men waiting on the banks for 35 cents a dozen.
I have made another effort to get the men to pay their house rent now that they are making so much money so easily, but in vain. As some one said to me the other day: "I never realized the power of a lie until recently! Any one who can make a plausible lie and stick to it, seems impregnable."
It is an awful thought, for we know who is the father of lies, the Prince of Darkness. There is no shaking my faith, however, in the ultimate triumph in that never ending, to-the-death struggle between the powers of darkness and light,—that the light will conquer every stronghold of darkness until the perfect day reigns the world over.