Reba moaned. "Anybody go out gonna git sprung on befo' they gits there. It around here, I say. It gittin' closer an' closer. It gonna git me sho."
He could smell it strong.
"How it gonna git in here? Yawl jus' frettin' for nothin'."
That was Thin Minnie. Nothin' could git her. She'd had a spell on her since when she was small--put there by a conjer woman.
"It come in easy ef it wanter," Reba snorted. "It tear up that cat-hole an' come through."
"We could be down to Nancy's by then," Minnie sniffed.
"Yawl could," the old woman muttered.
Him an' her couldn't, he knew. But he'd stay an' fight it. You see that blin' boy there? He the one kill the wildcat!
Reba started groaning.
"Hush that!" his mother ordered.
The groaning turned into singing--low in her throat.
Lord, Lord,
Gonna see yo' pilgrim today.
Lord, Lord,
Gonna see yo'..."
"Hush!" his mother hissed. "What that I hear?"
