"Juba this and Juba that!
Juba killed a yaller cat!
Juba! Juba!"

"Whoop!" yelled old Jason, bending his huge body and patting his
leg and knee to the beat of one big cowhide boot and urging them
on in a frenzy of delight:

"Come on, Jason! Git atter him, stranger! Whoop her up thar with
that fiddle--Heh--ee--dum dee--eede-eedle--dedee-dee!"

Then there was dancing. The fiddler woke like a battery newly
charged, every face lighted with freshened interest, and only the
colonel and Marjorie showed surprise and mystification. The
double-shuffle was hardly included in the curriculum of the
colonel's training school for a gentleman, and where, when, and
how the boy had learned such Ethiopian skill, neither he nor
Marjorie knew. But he had it and they enjoyed it to the full.
Gray's face wore a merry smile, and Jason, though he was breathing
hard and his black hair was plastered to his wet forehead, faced
his new competitor with rallying feet but a sullen face. "The
Forked Deer," "Big Sewell Mountain," and "Cattle Licking Salt" for
Jason, and the back-step, double-shuffle, and "Jim Crow" for Gray;
both improvising their own steps when the fiddler raised his voice
in "Comin' up, Sandy," "Chicken in the Dough-Tray," and "Sparrows
on the Ash-Bank"; and thus they went through all the steps known
to the negro or the mountaineer, until the colonel saw that game
little Jason, though winded, would go on till he dropped, and gave
Gray a sign that the boy's generous soul caught like a flash; for,
as though worn out himself, he threw up his hands with a laugh and