"Yes'm."
"Don't you git into no mischuf!"
"Nome."
"Ef you dose, I'll w'ar you out, sah! Now, go 'long!"
The boys trotted merrily away together. But they had not gone fifty rods before they heard Pumble's mother calling him. They stopped to listen.
"Take—keer—ob yo'—clo'es!" she shouted, and then went back into her house.
Under a great pecan-tree, on the lawn before the "big house," Sam and Pumble sat down to consider and consult, or, as they expressed it, "to study up whut us gwine to do."
"Shill I tell a story?" asked Pumble.
"Does you know a good one?" inquired Sam.
"Dis story's gwine to be a new one," said Pumble "beakase I'll make it up as I go 'long."