Читать книгу The River Is Home - Patrick D. Smith - Страница 8

WHEN THE FIRST RAYS of the sun were beginning to penetrate the darkness, the Corey household showed some signs of life. Theresa, who was always the first one up, was in the kitchen stoking up the coals with fresh sticks to get the fire started. By the time the sun had sprung to life, Ma Corey was pouring fresh water into the old coffee grounds and getting out the pans to prepare breakfast. Pa was standing on the front porch stretching his arms and yawning loudly. Jeff and Skeeter were still in bed with the covers pulled over their heads. Pa came into the room and shook them.

“You boys git on out of there so’es we kin go and run them traps afore some nigger beats us to ’em. The way the air smells this mornin’ I’d near abouts bet a coon that them traps is plum full of fish. I kin smell ’em clear to the house here.”

Jeff and Skeeter slowly arose from the bed, and made their way to the back of the house and the washstand. They took turns dousing cold water on their faces and rubbing the sleep from their eyes with the towel. Skeeter was a little sore from last night’s ordeal in the swamps.

“For the love of God,” said Ma, “you boys git back in there and put on them overhalls. Hit jest ain’t decent runnin’ aroun’ here naked as a couple of jaybirds.”

They hurriedly left the room and returned shortly, fully dressed. “I guess we jest didn’t realize that we wasn’t dressed, Ma,” said Skeeter.

“Well, you be shore and examine yoreself afore you come runnin’ aroun’ here like that no more,” said Ma. “Now you take this here bucket and go git me some fresh water so’es I kin boil this com mush.”

Skeeter took the bucket and started to the bayou, while Jeff went to bring in a supply of wood to be used during the morning. The fire was never allowed to go out in the Corey house. Pa went to the back stoop and brought in the frog legs that the boys had hung there after their return the night before.

“Jest look at the size of these legs, Ma,” he said. “Them shore air goin’ to be some good eatin’ soon as you git ’em fried.”

“They’ll be good if’n I kin jest keep ’em in the fryin’ pan long enough to git ’em cooked. You’d think that when them things hit that hot grease they was goin’ to git up and walk right back into the swamp.”

“Skeeter tole me onced that he had seed a snake swoller one of them small frogs,” said Theresa, “and after a while that frog jumped plum back out uv that snake’s belly.”

“Well, when I git him in my belly, he shore ain’t goin’ to jump back again,” said Pa, “and I tole you afore not to pay no mind to what Skeeter has done tole you.”

In a few minutes Skeeter returned with the water, and Ma put the corn meal mush on to boil. When Jeff came in, they all sat down at the table and began their breakfast of mush, frog legs, and coffee. Jeff and Skeeter did not say a word about their encounter with the big bull alligator on the previous night. After the meal was finished, Theresa and Ma started their morning chores as Pa and the boys left the house and went to the boat landing.

“Hit shore air goin’ to be a purty day, ain’t hit, Pa?” said Skeeter. “When we gits back from the fishin’ this mornin’, I think I’ll go into the swamp and see if I kin git me some snake hides to trade whiles we’re in Mill Town tomorrow.”

“Tain’t goin’ to be no use to go into town tomorrow if’n they ain’t no fish in the traps and on the lines this mornin’. We hardly got enough in the box at home to eat ourselves. But I jest got a feelin’ that we shore made a good ketch last night. You boys put yore arms to them oars and let’s git on up the river.”

Jeff and Skeeter glided the boat down the bayou and out into the river. The water of the river was red with the reflection of the rising sun. Gray wisps of fog floated from the water and into the trees along the bank. The river was always beautiful early in the morning. The air had a sweet, clean smell about it, and even the mud seemed not so thick. White cranes with long legs and bills were standing in the shallow water along the banks pecking at minnows and small frogs. The trees were alive with birds and squirrels, all blending their voices to make a gay musical sound drift across the river. High overhead, the cawing of the crows mingled with the call of the wood ducks coming in from their roost in the marshes. All the creatures of the air seemed to be glad to be alive on this beautiful spring day.

When they reached West Cut, Jeff took in his oar and crept to the rear of the boat to help pull up the fish traps. Skeeter steered the bow into the cove by himself, then dropped the anchor over the side. It was always exciting for Skeeter to watch them pull up the traps. Pa took one stake line while Jeff took the other, and they slowly raised the first trap from the water. With one quick motion they flipped the trap into the bottom of the boat.

“Jest look at the fish in there!” cried Jeff. “Boy, ain’t they some pretty ones!”

Pa was too excited to talk. He was running his hand into the trap and pulling out fish. Skeeter stood up and looked on with glee.

“How many air hit, Pa?” asked Skeeter.

“They’s eight cat and two buffalo in here,” cried Pa.

When Pa had removed all the fish from the trap, they tied the stake lines and threw the trap back over the side. Skeeter drew in the anchor and rowed the boat further back in the cove where the other trap was set. He dropped the anchor again and they pulled the trap into the boat.

“We didn’t do as good here,” said Pa, “but they’s about four good-sized cats here. Now let’s hurry up and git to that trotline out in the river and see about hit afore them gars gits to work on hit.”

Jeff climbed back to the middle of the boat, and he and Skeeter backed the boat out of the cove and into the river. They always liked going back better than they did coming. The swift river current caught the boat and sent it sailing downstream, like a feather floating on the water. They glided out of the swift water and pointed the bow toward the log where one end of the trotline was tied. Just before the bow touched the log, Jeff pulled hard with the oar on his side, and it swung round and pumped Pa right into the beginning of the line. When Pa had the line in his hand, the boat gently swung back around and pointed the bow downstream. Then he started pulling along the line.

The first few hooks he came to were empty of bait, but he could feel a hard pulling of the line a few feet on down and knew that he had a fish. He pulled the line up slowly. It was impossible to see below the surface of the muddy water so, in order to find what was on the hook, it was necessary to pull the line all the way out of the water. Since Pa certainly did not want to jerk any gar into the boat, he was always very slow in seeing what was on the hook. When the top of the line came out of the water, it was covered with a white, silky slime, so he knew at once without raising it any further.

“One of you boys mout as well hand me yore knife,” said Pa, “they’s a fish eel on this ‘un, and I could shore never git him off.”

Skeeter handed him his knife, and he wrapped the line around his hand several times and cut it from the trotline. Then he pulled the eel into the bottom of the boat. It was about five feet long and bigger around than Pa Corey’s arm. “Hit’s shore a nice ‘un,” said Pa, “and hit weighs ’bout six pounds.”

“That’s the best eatin’ they air in the river,” said Skeeter. “I’d heap ruther have hit than cat or buffalo.”

“You mighty right,” said Jeff. “I don’t believe I ever could git me a bellyful of that fish eel meat.”

Pa pulled the boat slowly on along the line and took off two more small catfish. At the far end he thought it had hung on a snag, so he asked Jeff to help him pull it loose. Jeff crept to the back of the boat, and they both took the line and pulled. All at once it snapped from their hands and disappeared beneath the water. “Well, I’m damned!” said Pa. “We shore got us somethin’ here. Hand me the gaff, Skeeter.”

He took the gaff from Skeeter, and he pushed the hook deep under the water to catch and bring the line back up. When he had it again, he and Jeff grabbed the line with both hands and pulled with all the strength they could gather. They would pull up a little and then the line would go back down. They battled back and forth for a half hour and finally succeeded in getting the fish’s head to the surface of the water. Pa grabbed the gaff and sliced the point through the bottom jaw of the fish. They let the line go and both took the handle of the gaff. With a mighty heave they pulled in the fish. It stretched half the length of the boat. The big cat would weigh at least eighty pounds.

“We shore got us one this time, ain’t we, Pa!” said Jeff.

“I knowed whut hit was goin’ to be this mornin’,” said Pa, “’cause I could smell hit in the air. A feller kin jest ’bout tell whut he’s got afore he leaves the house if’n he’ll jest smell the air.”

“If’n we would of caught one more, this boat would have shore sunk,” said Skeeter. “She’s jest about under the water now. How much do you suppose all this fish will weigh, Pa?”

“Best I kin figger is that they’ll weigh nigh on three hundred and fifty pounds with whut we got at the house. And they was bringing five cents a pound last week in Mill Town. We’ll have enough left over after gittin’ the supplies to buy us a few more shot and some powder fer the gun. We’s jest about out.”

On the way back downstream, Jeff and Skeeter didn’t use the oars for fear of tipping the boat too much and swamping it. The sides were only a couple of inches out of the water, and a slight dip to one side would have sent it under. They let the current take the boat, and Jeff used his oar for a rudder. About a half mile from the mouth of the bayou they heard a loud blast around the bend.

“Oh my Lord, have mercy on me!” cried Pa. “Hit’s one of them steamboat fellers, and with this load on here they will swamp us shore.”

“Do you reckon we kin make hit to the bayou afore they gits to us, Pa?” asked Skeeter.

“We’d nary make it, Son,” said Pa. “If’n you and Jeff was to use the oars fer speed you’d turn the boat over afore we got near ’bouts there.”

The blast sounded again, and then they could see the steamboat come around the bend and head straight for them.

“Head her into that little creek comin’ in there!” cried Pa. Jeff turned the oar hard to the left, and the boat began to swing slowly into the right bank of the river. A little creek flowed into the river just below them, and Jeff pointed the bow of the boat into it. All three jumped out into the neck-deep water, and guided the boat behind a clump of bushes hanging over the water. Skeeter could hardly keep his nose above the water by standing on his toes. Just as they got behind the bush the steamboat passed, with its stem wheels churning madly. The waves from its wake rolled into the creek and knocked Skeeter from his feet. Jeff and Pa clung to the sides of the boat to keep the water from rushing over it and turning it over. Skeeter was knocked under the boat and then into the bank. When he came up, his eyes and mouth were filled with the foul-tasting, muddy water. He pulled himself onto the bank and began to belch the water from his stomach. Pa and Jeff still clung to the sides of the boat, with the waves rushing over their heads. When the water finally calmed again, they crawled onto the bank with Skeeter.

“You hurt, Skeeter?” asked Pa.

“Naw,” he said, “jest got me a bellyful uv mud.”

“How we goin’ to git back in the boat without turnin’ her over?” asked Jeff. “That sucker jest air goin’ to stay out’n the water by itself now.”

“I guess they ain’t but one thing fer us to do,” said Pa, “and that be to cling to the sides of the boat and float her in home. Me and you kin git on one side apiece and Skeeter kin hang on to the rear. We kin drift to the bayou and then kick her on up home.”

Pa and Jeff got on opposite sides of the boat and Skeeter clung to the rear; they paddled with their hands and feet and pushed the boat into the swift current of the river. They fought the boat to the left side of the river and barely managed to turn it into the mouth of the bayou. Once out of the swift water, they all three clung to the rear and kicked up their feet, and slowly moved up the bayou to the landing. Ma and Theresa ran from the house to meet them.

“Whut in the world air you fellers hangin’ on and kickin’ like a bunch of hound dogs fer?” asked Ma. “You ain’t got tetched in the head, has you?”

“That dern steamboat jest liked to have sunk the boat and drowned us all,” said Pa, “and we couldn’t git back in without swampin’ her. You see whut a load we got in the boat, don’t you? We shore got to git us a bigger boat somehow.”

“Hit’s a good thing you come home with some fish this mornin’,” said Ma, “or hit would have been mighty pore eatin’ aroun’ here soon. Now you kin jest git me a fresh bottle of snuff fer some of that fish tomorrow.”

“And if’n you kin, I’d like a hair comb, Pa,” said Theresa.

“The both of you better be glad if’n I bring home plenty of meal and sugar,” said Pa, “’cause we come mighty nigh losin’ the whole bunch of hit.”

“Well, I’m goin’ an’ hoe in the garden some more,” said Ma, “so’es hit won’t be too long afore we has some peas and onions on the table. Theresa, you better go see if’n you kin get some of that poke salat to fix fer dinner. And while you is out there, git some fer them hogs. They been rootin’ in that pen so much hit looks like where a bunch of bull ’gators been fightin’.”

Pa and the boys pulled the boat up on the landing and took the fish out and put them in the fish box. When they had finished, they turned the boat up on one side and dumped the water out of it. “Jeff,” said Pa, “I ’speck me and you better row over to the woods on the other side of the river and git some pine fer the fire. They ain’t too much left, and we shore won’t be able to go afore next week.”

“Do you want me to go too, Pa?” asked Skeeter.

“I’m afeared they won’t be enough room in the boat fer us and the wood too if’n you go,” said Pa.

As soon as Jeff went to the house and brought back the ax, he and Pa shoved off down the bayou in the boat. Skeeter stood on the landing and watched them until they were out of sight. He was glad that they had not wanted him to go along with them. He liked to be alone, especially if he could go into the swamp by himself. He ran to the back of the house and got the pole for the skiff and started up the bayou toward the swamp. The sun felt good, so he pulled off his shirt and threw it in the bow. He felt good all over, knowing that he could do as he pleased the rest of the morning.

When he reached the edge of the swamp, he would give a hard push with the pole and then lie down in the bottom of the skiff and glide along, looking up into the trees and at the clouds in the sky. It gave him a dizzy feeling to lie in the skiff and watch the white clouds sail by over him. He would lie on his stomach and push the skiff along by pulling his hands through the cool water. He felt more at home in the swamp than any place he had ever been. He couldn’t understand why anyone would be afraid of the swamp like Pa was.

A thought suddenly struck him that made him get to his feet and start poling the skiff swiftly through the water. He would go back to the place where they had fought the ’gator last night and see what had happened to him. He guided the skiff around trees and through vines, toward the place where they had been. Ahead of him he heard a splash in the water and knew that a snake had heard him coming and dropped from a limb or a vine. He could see turtles resting on logs and minnows shoot out in all directions. Sometimes he would pass a frog bed and see thousands of the small black eggs stretched out in long lines of white slime. As he went further into the swamp, the trees grew thicker, and the sun was almost shut out from him. He did not think that they had gone this far the night before. Presently he came to the spot where they had first seen the burning red eyes. He found the mudbank where the ’gator had been lying and could see signs of the struggle. He poled in the direction the ’gator had pulled him, and could see broken vines for several hundred yards until he came to a limb of a tree hanging low over the water, where he found the shaft of the gig floating in the water. The ’gator must have gone under the limb and broken the shaft from the steel gig. He knew that the gig was still solidly planted in the ’gator’s head. He said to himself: “Them dem ’gators must be awful hard critters to kill. Next time I go after me one of them buggers I’m shore goin’ to take that shotgun with me.” Without the gig shaft sticking up to break the vines, the trail was harder to follow and, when he came to a pool of deeper water, he lost it completely. He made several circles around the place, but could never pick up the trail again. Then he poled the skiff slowly in the direction of the bayou, stopping several times to watch a fight between a hawk and a catbird, or a snake stalking a small, unsuspecting frog, but he could never get close enough to one of the snakes to have a try at catching it. Sometimes it seemed that the snakes knew that he was after them and would glide away.

When he saw several small streaks of mud shoot through a shallow place by an old log, he knew that it was a crawfish bed, so he stopped the skiff and eased over the side into the water. He sunk down halfway to his knees in the soft black muck, and could feel it ooze up through his toes. He liked the feel of the cool muck on his feet. As he walked slowly through the shallow water to the log, he could see the crawfish backing around through the muck, so he stopped down and grabbed at them with his hands. When he would catch one he would put it in his pocket and then look for others. He ran his hands along the bottom of the log and caught several each time. After a while he had both of his pockets full and all he could carry in his hands, so he made his way back through the muck and dumped them into the skiff. Then he repeated this until he could find no more. He knew that his mother would be real proud, for now she could make them a big pot of crawfish gumbo. His mouth watered at the thought of this favorite dish. They could not catch crawfish in the bayou because the turtles would eat them as fast as they would come out of their beds.

It was about an hour before high noon when he reached the head of the bayou, so he lay down in the bottom of the skiff to enjoy the warm sun. A gentle breeze pushed the skiff slowly down the bayou. The breeze made the tall marsh grass look like a sea of swaying dancers. Skeeter thought that he would be content to drift forever with the sun and breeze and water about him. Why would anybody ever want to live anywhere besides along the swamp and river? When he raised up, he saw that he had already drifted past the landing, so he poled the skiff back to the landing and pulled it up on the bank.

He walked to the house and got a bucket and went back to the landing. He scooped several handfuls of the soft, cool, bayou muck into the bucket, and then put several layers of grass on top of it. When he had put in about a cupful of water and dumped the crawfish into the bucket, he walked back to the house and climbed the steps to the kitchen, where Ma and Theresa had already started preparing the noon meal.

“Guess whut I got in the bucket, Ma,” said Skeeter.

“Hit’s probably a bucketful of them swamp snakes,” said Theresa.

“Well, if’n that’s whut hit air you shore better git out’n here with hit in a hurry,” said Ma. “You oughta know better than to bring a bunch of them varments in here.”

“Hain’t neither one of you got the right idea,” said Skeeter. “I got a plum bucketful of crawfish here that I caught in the swamp.”

“Well, now, ain’t that nice?” said Ma. “I’ll get yore Pa to git me a few things in town tomorrow, and we’ll have the best pot of gumbo you ever tasted. I’m shore right proud of you, Skeeter.”

“Whut’s that you got cookin’ fer dinner, Ma?” he asked.

“Hit’s somethin’ you like a lot,” said Theresa.

“We got a pot of young poke salat with little onions and peppers chopped up in hit, and I’m makin’ a corn pone with onions fried in hit. And best of all, I’m fryin’ that fish eel. Now ain’t that a right fancy dinner, Skeeter?”

The mention of the food and the smells coming from the hearth made Skeeter’s mouth water with hunger. He put the bucket of crawfish in the corner of the kitchen, and slipped up to the hearth where the eel was cooking, to steal a piece. Ma saw what he was doing and grabbed him by the arm. “Now you git on out of here and wait fer yore Pa and Jeff to git back afore you start snitchin’ food. All you’ll do is ruin yore dinner.”

Skeeter went out the kitchen door and down to the landing. He broke sticks into little pieces and threw them into the water and imagined they were boats on a big ocean and he was sailing them. He looked down the bayou and saw Pa and Jeff coming with the load of wood. When they were close enough, he waded into the water and grabbed the bow of the boat and pulled it to the bank, as Pa and Jeff started throwing the fat pine wood out of the boat.

“You should have been with us this time, Skeeter,” said Jeff. “We saw a big buck over in the woods. We had sot down on a log to rest, and we were real quiet when we heard him comin’ through the bresh. He run right up to us and jest stopped and looked at us fer a spell. If’n we’d had the gun, we coulda kilt him as easy as shootin’ a squirrel.”

Skeeter’s eyes grew wide at the mention of the deer.

“I ain’t never seed as many deer signs as they were over there this mornin’,” said Pa. “I guess they ain’t been none of them slickers from up at Fort Henry messin’ aroun’ over there and skeerin’ ’em fer a long time now. We’ll go over there next week and git us one of them buggers.”

“Kin I go too, Pa?” asked Skeeter.

“Shore you kin go. Hit’s jest that when we go after wood they ain’t no room to take you, and other than that we jest don’t have no call to go into the woods very often.”

Skeeter had never been into the big woods on the other side of the river, and the thought of getting to go made him feel wild with excitement. He could picture all kinds of mysteries that he had never seen, but he didn’t think that he would like it better than the swamp.

He helped Pa and Jeff store the wood beside the house, and then they all went in to wash up for dinner. Each took his turn at the washbasin and towel. Skeeter had become so excited at the thought of the deer hunt that he forgot to tell Pa and Jeff that he had caught the crawfish.

Ma put the dinner on the table, and they sat down to begin the meal. The young poke salat, hush puppies, and eel tasted so good that they all put large quantities of the food in their mouths and ate in silence. About halfway through the meal several of the crawfish escaped from the bucket in the corner and were crawling toward the table. Pa happened to glance at the floor and saw them coming toward him. He tried to jump from his chair, but his feet caught the bottom of the table and turned him over, rolling him backwards over the floor, right into the middle of the crawfish. The half-swallowed food stuck in his throat, and he fought madly to get back to his feet. Finally he dashed to the door and looked back and saw that his assailants were only harmless crawfish.

“Where in the tarnation of hell did them things come from?” he bellowed. “I thought all the devils in the swamp were comin’ after me. That liked to have scared me to death.”

“Skeeter caught ’em in the swamp whiles you were gittin’ the wood,” said Ma. “Now come on and finish yore dinner and stop actin’ like an idiot.”

Everyone had to hold their breath for a minute to keep from laughing at Pa.

“Well, if’n hit weren’t for the fact that I could eat six barrels of that gumbo you make, Ma, I would whale the daylights out uv Skeeter right here and now. Ain’t no use in scarin’ the livin’ out’n a feller like that.”

Skeeter got up and caught the crawfish, put them back into the bucket, got a pan and covered the top of the bucket so that they could not escape again, and the meal was finished in peace.

When the last person got up from the table, there was not a crumb of the dinner left. Theresa stacked the dishes on the stand, and she and Ma went to the other room to lie down and rest a few minutes before washing them and cleaning the kitchen. Pa and Jeff lay down on the front porch, and Skeeter went down to the bayou to lie in the grass and look up at the clouds. The sun sent pleasant waves of simmering heat into the Corey clearing, and the breeze brought cool air from the bayou. In a few minutes the entire family was fast asleep.

It was mid afternoon when the blast from the steamboat whistle awakened Pa Corey from his deep sleep. He grumbled something about where he wished the steamboats would go, and rose slowly to his feet. Ma and Theresa were cleaning up the kitchen. Jeff was still asleep on the porch. Pa walked into the kitchen, took the gourd dipper from the shelf, dipped it in the bucket, and took a long draught of the cool water. He walked back to the front porch and shook Jeff. “You better git up, Son,” he said. “We got to string them fish afore hit gits dark.”

Pa went into the kitchen and took the long fish string from a nail on the wall. On one end of the string was a slim copper spike, and on the other a copper circle. He went down the back steps and to the landing. Skeeter was not there, and the skiff was gone. Pa found a small round stick about a foot long, pulled a loop of the line through the copper circle and pushed the stick through the loop. Then he pulled tight on the string, and the stick was tied fast against the circle. In a few minutes Jeff came down to the landing, and they pulled the fish box out of the water. Pa took a fish out of the box, ran the spike through its gills and out its mouth, and then let it slide down against the stick. He handed the spike to Jeff, and as he would take the fish out of the box, Jeff would string them. When they had finished, they put the fish back into the box, closed the lid, tied the end of the string to a bush on the bank, and shoved the box back into the water. Jeff took his knife and started cleaning one of the large buffalo he had left out for their supper, and Pa went back into the house.

Jeff was washing the fish in the bayou, when he saw Skeeter coming toward him in the skiff. When he pushed in at the landing, Jeff saw three large water moccasins lying in the bottom. Their heads had been neatly popped from their bodies. Skeeter threw the snakes on the bank and got out of the skiff.

“I’ll give you one of these skins to trade in town tomorrow if’n you’ll help me clean ’em,” he said.

“I’ll shore do hit,” said Jeff, “’cause I need somethin’ of my own fer to trade. Whut you reckon them folks do with these here skins, Skeeter?”

“I heard that they makes belts and purses out of ’em.”

“Well, I shore wouldn’t want no snakeskin hangin’ aroun’ my belly or in my pocket,” said Jeff.

Jeff put the cleaned fish on the grass and grasped the tail of one of the snakes. Skeeter took the other end and ran the sharp blade of his knife down the underside of the snake. When they had split the snake in half, they trimmed the meat and bones from the skin. Then Skeeter washed it in the water. When they finished cleaning all three of the snakes, they hung the skins over a limb of a tree to dry, and went into the house. Ma was giving Pa instructions as to what to bring from town the next day. Jeff took the bar of yellow soap from the shelf and went up the bayou to take a bath, and Skeeter stood at the door looking after him.

“Why air hit that Jeff’s been takin’ a bath afore we go to town the last few times?” asked Skeeter. “I can’t see no use in him gettin’ all that fancy.”

“I’ve heard that he’s sparkin’ some gal in town,” said Pa.

“Yeh, and he better stop that sparkin’ aroun’ them town girls afore he gits us all in trouble,” said Ma. “You know dern well whut them folks thinks of the likes of Jeff, and they ain’t no use askin’ fer yore head to be chopped off.”

“Whut’s sparkin’ mean, Ma?” asked Theresa.

“Hit’s jest as well you don’t know and don’t never find out. They ain’t no end to a woman’s troubles after a man comes sniffin’ around her like she were a bitch dog in heat.”

“Now, I wouldn’t go so fer as to say that,” said Pa. “You ain’t did too bad fer yoreself.”

“You call livin’ in this swamp and bein’ treated like a nigger by all the other white folks ain’t so bad? Sometimes I think we would uv been better off if’n we would have stayed in the fields. Hit’s been nigh on a year now since me and Theresa has seen ary other white folks, excusin’ you and the boys.”

Skeeter and Theresa couldn’t understand what it was their folks were arguing about. They had seen these little spats before, and they always felt sorry for Pa, but they couldn’t understand why Ma didn’t love living on the river as they did. Skeeter couldn’t stand the thought of not being around the swamp, and he liked not having other folks around them all the time.

“Jest the same,” said Ma, “you better tell the boy to watch himself while he’s messin’ aroun’ in that town.”

“Leave the boy be,” said Pa, as he walked to the front porch and sat down. Ma and Theresa started cooking the supper. After a while Jeff came in, and they all sat at the table and ate in silence. When they had finished, Pa and the boys sat on the front porch, while Ma and Theresa washed the dishes and cleaned the kitchen. When the work was finished, the family went to bed, for they all knew that they had to be up long before daybreak to start preparations for the trip to town.

A few hours after dark Pa was awakened by a loud splashing coming from the bayou. Jeff and Skeeter had heard the disturbance also and were pulling on their clothes. They went to the kitchen and lighted a torch and all three went down to the landing. They could hear the splashing continuing up the bayou. The fish box had been knocked from the water and was lying several feet up on the bank. They put it back into the water and stood for a few minutes in silence and could hear the noises continue past the end of the bayou and into the swamp.

“Whut in the world do you reckon that were?” asked Pa.

“Hit beats me,” said Jeff. “I never heard of a critter pullin’ a stunt like that there.”

Skeeter didn’t say a word because he thought he knew what had caused the disturbance and knocked the box out of the water.