"I reckon dis'n's 'bout my meshur, an' ef yo' sez de word, I'll onhitch de goodie, an' 'scort it down to der Rosewood shanty wid yo' compelments."

"All right, Jube," returned the farmer; "take it along if you can carry it. The fruit isn't any bigger than the thanks I owe you, but I'm afraid it is a size or two beyond your strength to carry."

"Don't let dat onsettle yo', Mars' Tappan," said Jube, as he got down on his "hunkies" to pick his prize package. "Dis chile's 'fection fo' dis wegetable am strong 'nuff ter gar'nty dat it won' get outer reach atter der grip's been tuk on it, an' dat yo' kin 'pen' on." With this remark Jube broke the stem, and thrusting his arms under the curving ends of his game, staggeringly lifted it from the ground.

Now Jube had a little brother at home who was every bit as big as that water-melon, and because he had carried him about very often in mere play, he thought there would not be any trouble about managing this inoffensive specimen of garden truck. Jube forgot, however, that the water-melon didn't have any arms to catch hold with, and no wrinkly trousers to catch hold of, and besides it was smooth and bunchy, and would spoil a good deal easier if it should happen to drop. He had no more than tottered through the rails that Farmer Tappan had let down for him than he began to feel as if he had a baby elephant in his arms, and before he had struggled a hundred feet down the road, he imagined the elephant had grown big enough to be its own grandfather.

"I 'clar' ter sakes!" he exclaimed, as, turning a bend in the highway, he was enabled unseen by the farmer to put his burden in keeping of a moss bank for a while—"I 'clar' ter sakes ef dat ar' 'freshment don' 'pear ter be stuff' wid cookin'-stoves. 'Pears like ef a man wuz lookin' fo' sumfin dat wuz easy ter drop, dis yarb'd come closer ter de mark dan a bees' nes'." Then, apparently addressing the melon, he continued: "But yo'm gotter come 'long wid me. I sot out ter see yer hum, an' dar's whar yo'm gonter lan' up, 'less yo' grows till yo's de size ob a fo'-hoss wagon."

Hereupon, Jube bent down to gather up his burden again, and after bracing himself as if he was going to pull up a tree by the roots, and gritting his teeth in a way that might have frightened a smaller melon, he began to joggle himself along his journey once more. He had fixed his trophy in such a way that his chest was made to form part of the support, and with arms beneath for a prop, he bobbed along with his head thrown away back to the rear of the procession, and his waist poked far enough out in front to give the idea that he was sending it on ahead to let the folks know he was coming. It was jostle and sway, and tug and stagger, every inch of the way, and I am not sure but it would have suggested to you a lone tumble-bug working his dirt-ball along a dusty highway.

Coming to the top of a hill, the overburdened boy was obliged to rest again, and depositing his responsibility upon a convenient brush heap, he straightened out the kinks in his back, brushed the perspiration from his brow with his shirt sleeve, and taking a long breath, again addressed the unconscious water-melon.

"Well, dar! ef yo' hain't been swallyin' a stun fence, den my gumpshun's slip out froo a crack somewhars sho 'nuff. Whatsumever's inside dat ar' speckle hide o' yo'n dis chile dunno, but ef yo'm as wuff eatin' as yo'm heaby totin', dar's mo' sweetmeats waitin' fo' der fam'ly whar I's gwine ter interduce ye dan dey's had in a mont' er Sund'ys."

Here Jube took another survey of the situation, and as his eye followed the range of the rather steep roadway, and rested on a whitewashed cabin at its foot, a look of pleasure and confidence spread over his face as he said:

"Dar's mammy's cabin, sartin. An' dar's whar dis yar water-million's gwinter fotch up; an' ef dar's any mo' easier way o' gettin' it dar dan losin' it, Jube hain't one o' der Rosewoods dat's 'quainted wid der fac'."