behind the fence a curious figure to confront
them. Two figures, in fact, a man's and a mule's. Both were of a dusty
brown color, both were solemn in expression, and so like one another
in length of countenance that Melvin giggled and nudged Jim, declaring
under his breath:

"Look like brothers, don't you know?"

Ephraim was the first to recover composure as, removing his hat, he
explained:

"We-all's trabellers an' jes' natchally stopped to enquiah has yo'
wattymillyouns fo' sale."

Chloe sniggered at the old man's deft turn of the matter, for she knew
perfectly well that the idea of buying the melons hadn't entered his
mind until that moment. He was an honest creature in general, but no
southern negro considers it a crime to steal a water-melon--until he
is caught at it!

The air with which Ephy bowed and scraped sent the boys into roars of
laughter but didn't in the least lessen the gloom of the farmer's
face. At last he opened his lips, closed them, reopened them and
answered:

"Ye-es. I have. But--I cayn't sell 'em. They ain't never no sale for
_my_ truck. Is they, Billy?"

The mournfulness of his voice was absurd. As absurd as to call the
solemn-visaged mule by the frivolous name of "Billy." Evidently the
animal understood human speech, for in response to his owner's appeal
the creature opened his own great jaws in a prodigious bray. Whereupon
the farmer nodded, gravely, as if to say:

"You see. Billy knows."

"How much yo' tax 'em at?" asked Chloe, gazing over the fence with
longing eyes and mentally selecting the ripest and juiciest of the
fruit.

"I ain't taxin' 'em. I leave it to you."

Then he immediately sat down upon the rock beside the fence where he
had been "resting" for most of that afternoon, or "evenin'" as he
called it. Billy doubled himself up and sprawled on the ground near
his master, to the injury of the vines and one especially big melon.

"O, suh! _Doan'_ let him squush it!" begged Chloe; while Ephraim
turned upon her with a reproving:

"You-all min' yo' place! _Ah_ 'm 'tendin' to dis yeah business."

"Va'y well. Jes' gimme mah millyoun ter tote home to Miss Betty. Ah
mus' ha' left mah pocket-book behin' me!" she jeered. Then, before
they knew what she was about, she had sprung over the fence and picked
up the melon she had all along selected as her own.

Nobody interfered, not even the somber owner of the patch; and with
amazing lightness Chloe scrambled back again, the g