"Yo' can'd eat dem all!" cried Peter Peer, his eyes rolling hungrily from side to side.
"Look a-here, kid," said Bascom; "if you want one so bad I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll let you pick figs for 'em. I was wantin' to pick 'em myse'f, but it looks like I got to stay and take charge of these. I'll give you a cracked melon for every basket of figs you pick."
"All right," said Peter Peer; "gimme de basket."
Bascom gave him a corner of melon to seal the bargain and keep the basket from looking too large, and Peter Peer was soon whistling in the trees behind the Captain's house. Bascom had scarcely settled himself under the live-oak when Sonny Ladnier and his younger brother came in sight with their red-sailed cat-boat, bent on an early trip to Potosi. They saw the pile of melons, and it drew them like an undertow.
"Wheah yo' ged all dem melons?" they shouted.
"Growed 'em," replied Bascom; "do you want some?"
"Yo' bet yo'!" cried Sonny, tying up the boat. "Hand one ovah."
"What for?"
"W'at faw? W'y, to eat."
"I mean, what will you give me?" Bascom explained.