WASH DAY IN THE SWAMP. A picture en passant.

and pushed back into the game. When the dice came around to him he said: "Dollar I shoot."

Brutus promptly tossed a coin beside it.

Without any preliminaries Bowleg rolled the dice; "Seben," announced the pass-picker

"Two dollars I shoot"-and Bowleg rolled eleven.

"Four dollars I shoot."

That time he rolled a six and a four. "Big Dick from Boston," announced the pass-picker.

Ten is a hard point, the dice were stubborn, but he turned double fives.

"Eight dollars I shoot." He won again, and raked all the money into a pile.

"Sixteen dollars I shoot."

"He's a gritty devil," whispered Adams; and as he turned his face again

Bowleg gathered in the grapes. Bowleg now had thirty-two dollars-and the dice. The other rousters grew impatient while he counted his money. Separating it into two piles Bowleg shoved a handful into the middle of the ring. "Nineteen dollars and fifteen cents I shoot"-that being the wages of the trip.

The others hesitated, reluctant to buck against Bowleg's luck. Brutus and Spider were both winners; Bowleg resting on hands and knees, looked them straight in the face: "Gwineter lemme bluff you?"

"Huh," grunted Brutus; "you'se like er old buzzard, flyin' high but yer bound ter light-I got you fer ten."

Spider flared up: "Dat nigger ain't so warm-I'll take de rest." They covered the money; Bowleg blew on the dice and -threw a four. "Little Joe," said the pass-picker. Brutus and Spider smiled. "Little Joe" was the hardest point on the dice. Again and again Bowleg rolled out the dice, but neither seven nor four was turned. The others watched him with fascinated eyes. Presently up came two deuces and the crowd settled back. "Did you ever see de like o' dat. Dat fool nigger makes Big Dick, den follers his han', and throws Little Joe."

Bowleg paid them no mind. He left the dice lying with Little Joe upturned, and stuffed the money into his pocket. "I jes wanted to shoot de wages o' de trip."

This time he did not take his seat gloomily on a bale of cotton, but marched up front and perched on the capstan waiting to be the first negro to cross the stage plank. Mr. Kerr pointed at him and laughed. "There goes a mighty good rouster who won't work next trip."