"Yes, it would. And swallow you, too."
"No, the fish wouldn't," repeated Laddie, "for I'd let go just as soon as it began to tug."
"Smartie!" said Phillis to her brother. "You can't fool these Bunker boys. Let Laddie alone."
Of course the troop of white children, walking down the cart path to Mammy June's, was followed by a troop of colored children. The latter sang and romped and chased about the bordering woods like puppies out for a rample. Sometimes they danced.
"Can you cut a pigeon wing?" Russ asked one of the older lads. "I want to learn to do that."
"No, I can't do that. Not good. We've got some dancers over at the quarters that does it right well," was the reply.
"You ought to've seen Sneezer do it!" cried another of the colored children. "Sneezer could do it fine. Couldn't he, Miss Phil?"
"Sneezer was a great dancer," admitted the oldest Armatage girl. "Come on, now, Bunkers, and see Mammy June. Keep away from this cabin," she added to the colored children, "or I'll call a ha'nt out of the swamp to chase you."
"I wonder what those 'ha'nts' are, Russ," whispered Rose to her brother. "Do they have feathers? Or don't they fly? They must run pretty fast, for Phil is always saying she will make one chase folks."
"I asked Daddy. There isn't any such thing. It's like we say 'ghosts.'"