nd-tumble fight, in which both parties got
considerably worsted in the way of losing valuable hair, and of having
their eyes filled with dirt and their clean dresses all muddied; but Tot
was so much afraid Riar, her little nurse and maid, would get hurt that
she screamed and cried, and refused to be comforted until the combatants
suspended active hostilities, though they kept up quarrelling for some
time, even after they had recommenced their search for 'possums.

"Dilsey don't know how to tree no 'possums," said Riar, contemptuously,
after they had walked for some time, and anxiously looked up into every
tree they passed.

"Yes I kin," retorted Dilsey; "I kin tree 'em jes ez same ez er dog,
ef'n dar's any 'possums fur ter tree; but I can't _make_ 'possums, do;
an' ef dey ain't no 'possums, den I can't tree 'em, dat's all."

"Maybe they don't come out on the Fourf uv July," said Dumps. "Maybe
'possums keeps it same as peoples."

"Now, maybe dey duz," said Dilsey, who was glad to have some excuse for
her profitless 'possum-hunting; and the children, being fairly tired
out, started back to the creek bank, when they came upon Uncle Snake-bit
Bob, wandering through the woods, and looking intently on the ground.

"What are you looking for, Uncle Bob?" asked Diddie.

"Des er few buckeyes, honey," answered the old man.

"What you goin' ter do with 'em?" asked Dumps, as the little girls
joined him in his search.

"Well, I don't want ter die no drunkard, myse'f," said Uncle Bob, whose
besetting sin was love of whiskey.

"Does buckeyes keep folks from dying drunkards?" asked Dumps.

"Dat's wat dey sez; an' I 'lowed I'd lay me in er few, caze I've allers
hyearn dat dem folks wat totes a buckeye in dey lef britches pocket,
an' den ernudder in de right-han' coat pocket, dat dey ain't gwine die
no drunkards."

"But if they would stop drinkin' whiskey they wouldn't die drunkards
anyhow, would they, Uncle Bob?"

"Well, I dunno, honey; yer pinnin' de ole nigger mighty close; de
whiskey mout hab sump'n ter do wid it; I ain't sputin' dat--but wat I
stan's on is dis: dem folks wat I seed die drunk, dey nuber had no
buckeyes in dey pockets; caze I 'members dat oberseer wat Marse Brunson
had, he died wid delirums treums, an' he runned, he did, fur ter git
'way fum de things wat he seed atter him; an' he jumped into de riber,
an' he got drownded; an' I wuz dar wen dey pulled 'im out; an' I sez ter
Brer John Small, who wuz er sta