"Oh, I ain't er countin' him," said Dumps; "I ain't er countin' no
sheeps; I'm jes er talkin' 'bout ditches an' things."

And just then the little girls heard some one singing,

"De jay bird died wid de hookin'-coff,
Oh, ladies, ain't yer sorry?"

and Uncle Snake-bit Bob came up the ditch bank with an armful of
white-oak splits.

"Yer'd better git outn dat water," he called, as soon as he saw the
children. "Yer'll all be havin' de croup nex'. Git out, I tell yer! Efn
yer don't, I gwine straight an' tell yer pa."

It needed no second bidding, and the little girls scrambled up the bank,
and, drying their feet as best they could upon their skirts, they put on
their shoes and stockings.

"What are you doin', Uncle Bob?" called Diddie.

"I'm jes er cuttin' me er few willers fur ter make baskit-handles outn."

"Can't we come an' look at yer?" asked Diddie.

"Yes, honey, efn yer wants ter," replied Uncle Bob, mightily pleased.
"You're all pow'ful fon' er dis ole nigger; you're allers wantin' ter be
roun' him."

"It's 'cause you always tell us tales, an' don't quar'l with us,"