"Yes, I'm going' ter try. An' ef we have faith we'll git hit. Hit's a dry moon; ain't narry drop of water dyah, but faith c'n do hit."
The next morning a thin little cloud floated out of the brazen east, a mere ghost of a cloud, and from it was sifted down for about two minutes the poorest apology that nature ever made to injured verdure. Soon it passed into nothingness, and the full sun blazed over the parched land once more. A triumphant laugh was heard out where the hands were hoeing, and Ben's voice was recognized above all the others. They were congratulating him upon his success, when up came old Henry, his sack of carpenter's tools on his back. Ben shouted,
"Hello, Unc' Henry. I told you we'd fetch hit."
"Ben, did you say hit only taks faith as er grain er mustard seed ter move er mountain?"
"Yes, sah."
"Well now, hyah's de whole of Macedony Church, full of faith niggers, a prayin' for rain, an' de whole pack o' 'em can't lay de dust!"
FINNIGIN TO FLANNIGAN[68]
S. W. Gillilan
Superintindint wuz Flannigan;