"I'll get them."

When Jim-Bo got back, he handed his fiddle to Casey, the guitar to Hi-Pockets. Then he sat down in the chair next to mine.

"Jim-Bo, what you gonna play?"

"Me? Why, nothing, Bandershanks. I'm the hat man. I just pa.s.s the hat!"

"Pa.s.s what hat?"

"When Casey and Hi are down at Calico Neck playing for a Sat.u.r.day night dance, I go along to pa.s.s around the hat for them.

You know, take up the money?"

"Church money?"

"No, gal! The money for the musicians. Want me to tell you 'bout dances?"

"Yeah, you tell me!"

"All right, little Cuddin Sally Sue! While-"

"I ain't Sally Sue! I done told you!"

"Well, Lady Bandershanks, then! While Casey-"

"I ain't a lady. I'm-"

"Shh, now. While Casey and Hi tune up, I'm gonna explain to you all about dances down at Calico Neck, from start to finish.

Lemme light my pipe first, though. Folks down there don't generally give but five or six dances the whole winter-none in crop time."

"How come?"

"I reckon they think when us fellows walk behind a mule all day our legs get so wore out we couldn't dance none!"

Jim-Bo sucked hard on his pipe stem, and as soon as the tobacco started glowing he let me blow out the match. He shifted his pipe to the corner of his mouth and motioned for me to move over and sit on his knees.

"When somebody does decide to have a shindig, they get the word around to all the young folks down that way. Then they send for Casey and Hi and me to come do the fiddlin'. 'Course they call on Uncle Hiram, too."

"Who's Uncle Hiram, Jim-Bo?"

"He's just an old man with a fiddle. I don't know whose uncle he is, but he told me one night he's Miss d.i.n.k's brother."

"Has he got a peg leg?" Aunt Vic asked.

"Yes'm."

"I've seen that old man," Aunt Vic said. "He's only a half brother to Miss d.i.n.k. Lives way over yonder the other side of Millers Crossing-down below the state line."

"I tell you he can sure scald-the-dog! Don't know when to slow down, much less stop."

"He's a mean man! Pouring hot water on a poor dog!" I shouted.

"Bandershanks, that's just a saying! Means he's plain talented when it comes to a fiddle."

"Oh. Jim-Bo, hurry and get to the dancing part!"

"Yeah, I'm coming to that right now-soon's I clear the floor and sprinkle down the sand."

"What?"

"You see, on the Sat.u.r.day of the dance, folks have to move out the beds and dresser and table-or whatever stuff they've got in their front room-to sorta clear the floor so there'll be plenty of s.p.a.ce for dancing. All they leave is three or four straight chairs over in the corner for the fiddlers. And sometimes the lady of the house spreads a thick layer of white sand on the floor, just before everybody gets there. That way, she can get her floors tramped clean while the dancing is going on! Soon as the musicians come, they tune up. Then they strike up the music and six or seven couples start dancing.

"Casey and Hi and Uncle Hiram play and play. Then they rest.

And while they're resting, somebody takes up the collection of money to pay them. That's me! I get my hat and walk around through the crowd. The boys drop in a dime or two bits, or whatever they want to. After a while the music starts again.

"All the young sprouts who ain't too bashful-and the ones who ain't made many trips out behind the house to find a bottle-ask the pretty girls to dance again. And away they go! This lasts half an hour or so."

"Then what?"

"Then the fiddlers have to rest again, and I pa.s.s the hat again. If the dancers don't want to pay much, why the musicians don't feel like playing much. Sometimes I have to call out: 'The more money in the hat, boys, the sweeter goes the songs!' Or, I say: 'Pay your fiddlers, boys, and y'all can call the tunes!'"

"Say, Casey, ain't you got that thing tuned yet?"

"Yep! I'm all set now, Jim-Bo." Casey stuck his fiddle under his chin and edged his chair over closer to the lamp. "What do y'all wanta hear first? Bandershanks, what do you say?"

"I don't know."

"Why don't y'all start off with 'Turkey in the Straw,' Aunt Vic said, "and then do 'Arkansas Traveler.'"

So, they played some lively tunes. All of them sounded pretty, but I couldn't tell which was which.

Then Casey said, "Jim-Bo, sing her the one about being an old maid!"

"Yeah, Casey, that's a good one. Bandershanks, you're gonna like this song. It's called 'The Old Maid's Lament.' Hi, gim'me a few chords to help me along."

Hi started plucking the guitar strings and patting his foot.

And Jim-Bo sang:

My papa tells me I'm pretty, But I'm sadly much afraid, If Pa don't put down that shotgun, I'll go to my grave an old maid.

The boys never come a-courtin'; They dare not darken our door.

O please go find me a-

"You can't be no old maid!" I hollered at Jim-Bo before he could sing any further.

"Why, Bandershanks! You don't mean it!"

"Just girls turn to old maids!"

"You wanta turn into one?"