We ate some peanuts and stuffed more in our pockets. Shoogie said they'd taste a sight better if we made a fire and roasted them in the ashes.
"Come on, Bandershanks. I's got plenty o' matches."
"Where we gonna cook them?"
"Down yonder side o' the road."
"Mama won't lem'me play at the road no more."
"We ain't gonna be on the road. We'll be in that gully where there's sand. See, iffen we get a pile o' sand hot, our goobers'll cook quick. Come on, Bandershanks!"
Shoogie gathered up leaves and sticks and struck match after match, but she couldn't get a fire going.
"We needs us some pine straw, that's what. Come on, Bandershanks, there's plenty right down yonder round the bend. See them big trees?"
We hurried down the hill toward the pine thicket, following the road and the winding gully. After we had rounded the bend, we slid down into the gully and walked along the bottom till we got to the first of the pine trees. Straw was lying matted on the ground, thick and deep. Easy to rake together in big wads, Shoogie said.
She showed me how to hold my skirt out with both hands so she could pile on a big armful of the dried straw. Then she heaped up a bundle in her skirt, and we started back to our sticks and peanuts.