Possum and I went over to the barn raising at the Fenton farm. I took along my flask of hiccup remedy just in case. You know it's a four-mile walk to the Fentons’, and the road sure is hot and dusty this time of year. But lots of folks were there with picnic baskets full of good food. Mr. Sipes made some tasty root beer, and a good taffy pull was going on. Angus Ripley and his cousin Ellis found some fair-size tobacco butts over by where the men were unloading timber, and they stowed them in their pockets. On our way home we stopped off at the swimming hole before the bend in the river and met Angus and some of the others there. They were smoking the butts, and little Georgie Nestor was gagging and turning green, and they had to dump him in the water to get him to stop. We met Possum's sister Maudee back on the road. She wanted to walk home with us but insisted on stopping every two feet on account of a splinter she had in her foot. We finally had to stop and get it out with the pin that was holding up Possum's britches.
