The latter
sang and romped and chased about the bordering woods like puppies out
for a rample. Sometimes they danced.
"Can you cut a pigeon wing?" Russ asked one of the older lads. "I want
to learn to do that."
"No, I can't do that. Not good. We've got some dancers over at the
quarters that does it right well," was the reply.
"You ought to've seen Sneezer do it!" cried another of the colored
children. "Sneezer could do it fine. Couldn't he, Miss Phil?"
"Sneezer was a great dancer," admitted the oldest Armatage girl. "Come
on, now, Bunkers, and see Mammy June. Keep away from this cabin," she
added to the colored children, "or I'll call a ha'nt out of the swamp to
chase you."
"I wonder what those 'ha'nts' are, Russ," whispered Rose to her brother.
"Do they have feathers? Or don't they fly? They must run pretty fast,
for Phil is always saying she will make one chase folks."
"I asked Daddy. There isn't any such thing. It's like we say 'ghosts.'"
"Oh! At Hallowe'en? When we dress up in sheets and things?"
"Yes. Maybe these colored children believe in ghosts. But of course we
don't!"
"No-o," said Rose thoughtfully. "Just the same I wouldn't like to think
of ha'nts if I was alone in the woods at night. Would you, Russ?"
Russ dodged that question. He said:
"I don't mean to be alone in the woods around here at night. And neither
do you, Rose Bunker.
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