"What d'ye mean?" he scolded. "Hain't you learned to ride yet?"
Ralph, rather provoked and much out of breath, was silent, but the
darkies gave loud and voluble explanations, tending mostly to exculpate
themselves. Then they brought up the fallen mule, fixed the saddle and
looked as if they would not have objected to a small reward.
"Hurry, Ralph!" exclaimed Emmons, tossing them a dime. "We got no time
to lose. Glad there's no bones broken, but you must look sharp."
Ralph remounted and they were soon on the way again. For the next two
or three days they passed through a mostly level country, where great
cotton plantations, with stretches of swamp between, alternated with
broad pine barrens.
In these last the wind sighed mournfully, and the soil looked so poor
that the mountain boy felt that there was a section worse off than his
own steep and gravelly native land.
They arrived in Augusta by way of a ferry across the dirty, narrow
river that flows near the city. The mules were duly delivered to the
proper parties and the two at last felt at leisure to do as they
pleased.
Emmons took Ralph to a soda fountain.
"What will you have?" he asked.
"I don't know; whatever you like," said the boy, once more at sea as to
what he might expect.
When the effervescent liquid foamed and fizzed, Ralph stared in
amazement.
"Must I drink it?" he faltered, noticing the ease with which Emmons
swallowed his.
"Of course, you must. Did you think it was to wash with?"
Ralph afterward averred that it tasted better than it sounded, but
again pondered over the--to him--increasing mysteries of civilization.
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