And away off yander, the
hill-side opened and music poured out, and father reached over and put
his hand on my head and we listened."
"It is music," said Jim, "but the horn blowed by old Satan may be made
outen silver."
"But, Mr. Reverend," Mrs. Mayfield spoke up, "you surely don't object to
the enjoyment of a harmless adventure."
"No, ma'm. The Lord wants us to enjoy ourselves, but we should not jump
on the hoss of pleasure and gallop too fur away from the gospel of
truth."
Kintchin ducked his woolly head. "Keep on foolin' roun' an' dis yere
white man call up mourners," he declared. "De gospel it all right, bof
in de dark an' de light o' de moon; but you keep on foolin' wid it an'
follerin' it an' you gwine lose yo' min'. I knows whut I talkin' erbout.
You got ter come ter de 'clusion dat de Lawd knows best an' not pry too
fur inter his erfairs. De Book say suthin' 'bout eat all you want an'
take er drink once in er while fur ter-morrer you ain't gwine be yere."
"Does the Book say anything about shooting craps?" Tom inquired.
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