WHEN Charlie Gaston reached his home after a never-to-be-forgotten day in the woods with the Preacher, he found a ragged little dirt-smeared negro boy peeping through the fence into the woodyard.

“What you want?” cried Charlie.

“Nuttin!”

“What’s your name?”

“Dick.”

“Who’s your father?”

“Haint got none. My mudder say she was tricked, en I’se de trick!” he chuckled and walled his eyes.

Charlie came close and looked him over. Dick giggled and showed the whites of his eyes.

“What made that streak on your neck?”

“Nigger done it wid er axe.”

“What nigger?”

“Low life nigger name er Amos what stays roun’ our house Sundays.”

“What made him do it?”

“He low he wuz me daddy, en I sez he wuz er liar, en den he grab de axe en try ter chop me head off.”

“Gracious, he ’most killed you!”

“Yassir, but de doctor sewed me head back, en hit grow’d.”

“Goodness me!”

“Say!” grinned Dick.

“What?”

“I likes you.”

“Do you?”

&ldq............