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Updated: May 8, 2025
How many rows do you think I could do before tea?" "That mostly depends on how many p'tater plants git in your way, I guess." The girl's face suddenly wreathed itself in smiles. "There, you're laughing at me, and well, I was going to help you, but now I shan't. I've been down to see my Wanaha. Seth, you ought to have married her. She's the sweetest creature except Ma I know.
If you cry, Kaviak, I'll have to sing. Hmt, hmt! don't you do it." And as Kaviak, in spite of instructions, began to bawl, the Boy began to do a plantation jig, crooning monotonously: "'Grashoppah sett'n on de swee' p'tater vine, Swee' p'tater vine, swee' p'tater vine; Grasshoppah " He stopped as suddenly as he'd begun. "Now, will you be good?"
Then he kicked off his web-feet, turned back a few paces uphill, and sat down on a spruce stump, folded his arms, and waited. Was it the knapsack on his back that bowed him so? "Hello, Kentucky!" But the Colonel didn't look up till the Boy got quite near, chanting in his tuneless voice: "'Grasshoppah sett'n on a swee' p'tater vine, Swee' p'tater vine, swee' p'tater vine "
Tell me the river's hard as iron and the snow's up to the windah? Don' b'lieve a wo'd of it. We're on some plantation, Boy, down South, in the niggah quawtaws." The Boy was turning back the covers, and balancing a moment on the side of the bunk. "Sett'n on a swee' p'tater vine, swee' p'ta " "Great Caesar's ghost!" He jumped up, and stood staring down at the sleeping Kaviak. "Ah a didn't you know?
"Grasshoppah sett'n on a swee' p'tater vine," The Boy droned sleepily as he untied the leathern thongs that kept up his muckluck legs "Swee' p'tater vine, swee' p'ta " "All those othahs" the Colonel waved a hand in the direction of Pymeut "I think we dreamed 'em, Boy. You and me playing the Big Game with Fohtune. Foolishness! Klondyke? Yoh crazy.
Ther' wus the hen-roost wanted limin', she was sure the chick'ns had the bugs, an' the ol' mare's harness wanted fixin', so she could drive into town; an' the buckboard wanted washin', an' the wheels greasin'. An' the seat wus kind o' hard an' wanted packin' wi' a pillar. Then ther' wus the p'tater patch wanted hoein', an' the cabb'ges.
"Get away from there!" shouted Morris, in uncontrollable rage, "or I'll smash this bunch of shingles on your cursed head. Don't you open that ugly p'tater trap at me, you bow-legged little skunk! I'm goin' to lick you like a sock before I'm done with you." He would have done so then had he been on the ground, but he disdained taking the trouble to climb down.
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