“You like de black land, enty? No wonder, black as you is, gal!” Uncle chuckled at his joke.
“Sho’! Gi’ me black land eve’y time! You ain’t so white you’self, Uncle.”
Uncle missed her last words. He was too busy laughing and talking.
“You like you own color, enty, gal?”
Big Sue nodded and joined in heartily with his hollow clattering guffaws.
“Gi’ me de black all de time. White t’ings is too weakly!” she shouted gaily, as Uncle led the way toward the flat. Big Sue followed, holding Breeze’s hand tight. She picked her way down the short sandy hill with slow uncertain steps.
“I ain’ use to shoes an’ dey hinders my feet in dis sand,” she explained loudly, but Uncle was busy starting the flat across the river. Grunting, straining until veins showed in his forehead, he finally got the waterlogged hulk to moving by means of a rusty cable and a curious narrow board with notches cut in one side so it could clutch the cable tight.
The sun fell lower as they slowly crossed. Colors of the sky on the still water made a band of flame, of scarlet and purple down the middle of the dark stream, that spread out into the marshy forest.
The old ferryman paused in his pulling and muttered, as he gazed at the sunset; then with a bright look at Breeze, and a chuckle, he began pulling hard again. A flock of crows streaked the sky, going home; a lone fish-hawk sailed not far behind them; tiny swamp sparrows twittered and chattered.
Night was coming and the whole world knew it. The wind dropped into a quiet whispering, waiting for the tide to turn. Every tree and leaf and bough, even the water itself, was darkening. Squirrels chittered softly in their nests, a wildcat yeowled gently. Breeze’s heart, that had been thumping miserably in his breast, now beat up in his throat and the lump that had risen when he told his mother good-by swelled bigger and harder than ever. Tears that had been stinging his eyes all the way began rolling down his cheeks.