scream. Leon grabbed a stick and came running to the water. I
cried so he had to help me out first.

"Don't let her count them!" I whispered.

Leon gave me one swift look and all the mischief in his blue eyes
peeped out. He was the funniest boy you ever knew, anyway.
Mostly he looked scowly and abused. He had a grievance against
everybody and everything. He said none of us liked him, and we
imposed on him. Father said that if he tanned Leon's jacket for
anything, and set him down to think it over, he would pout a
while, then he would look thoughtful, suddenly his face would
light up and he would go away sparkling; and you could depend
upon it he would do the same thing over, or something worse,
inside an hour. When he wanted to, he could smile the most
winning smile, and he could coax you into anything. Mother said
she dreaded to have to borrow a dime from him, if a peddler
caught her without change, because she knew she'd be kept paying
it back for the next six months. Right now he was the busiest
kind of a boy.

"Where is it? Let me get a good lick at it! Don't scare the
ducks!" he would cry, and chase them from one bank to the other,
while Amanda danced and fought imaginary snakes. For a woman who
had seen as many as she must have in her life, it was too funny.
I don't think I could laugh harder, or Leon and Sammy. We
enjoyed ourselves so much that at last she began to be angry.
She quit dancing, and commenced hunting ducks, for sure. She
held her skirts high, poked along the banks, jumped the creek and
didn't always get clear across. Her hair shook down, she lost a