Part 22 (1/2)
”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 s.h.i.+fted 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 s.h.i.+ndig, 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.