“‘I doan want no lit’le gole you fines at home,’ sez Bill.
“Abe he holl’r back ergin, ‘Please, suh, come back, dar’s er heap mo’ hyah dan you kin git dar.’
“But he so tie’d runnin’ fus’ atter Jacky-Lantern, an’ den atter Willie Wisp, dat he hatt’r stop an’ blow er lit’le. Abe an’ de boys dey kotch up wid him, an’ dey tussels consid’rble tryin’ ter git him back, but dat boy Bill skuffle scand’lus. He thow ev’y one uv ’em flat in de mud.
“‘You all ain’ nuthin’ but er passel er gooses,’ he say, ‘talkin’ ’bout huntin’ gole at home. Don’t yer know yer got ter fight an’ scratch, an’ run, an’ keep er gwine tell yer gits ter whar dese hyah gol’ lights lives—den yer fines de bag er gole?’
“Fo’ de boys an’ Abe kin git dersefs up of’n de groun’ whar Bill knock ’em, Bill wus gwine like er race hoss atter Jacky-Lantern. Bimeby de groun’ ’gun ter git pow’ful sof’, an’ Bill, his foots ’gun ter sink down tur’bul. He can’t go fas’ no mo’,—I tell yer de trufe, hit wus all Bill cud do ter pull hisse’f erlong.”
“What was the matter with Bill, Mammy Phyllis?” whispered Mary Van.
“He in de swamp, honey, whar de groun’ wus mirey,—an’ hit wus full er hants too. Bill feel er hot flash pass him, an’ er Jacky-Lantern’d pop up—hyah come ernuth’r hot sumthin nuth’r, an’ Willie Wisp ’u’d pop up right ’long side er him.
“Bill say, ‘Is dis whar yer lives?’
“Jacky say:
“‘Foll’r me, sonny,
I got de money.’