``Booh, Polly Ann!''

Well, Nance had to stuff the bedquilt
in her mouth right thar to keep from
hollerin' out loud, fer Polly Ann's hand
was a-hangin' down by the cheer, jes
a-waitin' fer a job, and Nance seed the
fingers a-twitchin'. An' Jeb waits
another haffen hour an' Jeb says,

``Ortern't I be killed?''

``Whut fer?'' says Polly Ann, sorter
sharp.

An' Jeb says, ``Fer bein' so devilish.''

Well, brother, Nance snorted right
out thar, an' Polly Ann Sturgill's hand
riz up jes once; an' I've heerd Jeb
Somers say the next time he jumps out
o' the Fryin' Pan he's a-goin' to take hell-
fire 'stid o' Cutshin fer a place to light.




THE MESSAGE IN THE SAND