Brier Crook church stood at one end, with its desolate little graveyard, where the colored people buried their dead under its weeping willows and gloomy cedars.

John Jay avoided the lonely road that led in that direction, and took the one that wound around the other end of the thicket, past a deserted mill.  Yet, when he reached the ruined old building, with its staring windows and sunken roof, he was half sorry that he had not gone the other way.

The berries were on the far side of the thicket, and he was obliged to pass either the graveyard or the old mill to reach them.  The possibility of plunging boldly into the thicket and pushing his way through to the other side had never occurred to him, although it is doubtful if he would have dared to do so even had he thought of it.  He ran down the dry bed of the stream, and past the silent moss-grown wheel, breathing a sigh of relief when he came out into an open field beyond.

Balancing himself on the top rail of the fence, he looked cautiously along the edge of the thicket.  It did not look so dismal in there, after all.  A woodpecker’s cheerful tapping sounded somewhere within.  Butterflies flitted fearlessly down into its shady ravines.  A squirrel ran out on a limb, and sat chattering at him saucily.  Then a big gray rabbit rustled through the leaves, and went loping away into the depths of the thicket.

“I don’t believe there’s anything skeery in there at all!” exclaimed John Jay aloud.  After starting several times, and stopping to look all around and listen, he followed the rabbit into the bushes.  Plunging down a narrow cow-path which wound in and out, he came to an open space where a few trees had fallen.  Here, with an exclamation of delight, he pounced upon the finest, largest berries he had ever seen.  They dropped into the tin pail with a noisy thud at first, and then with scarcely a sound, as they rapidly piled higher and higher.

Both pails were filled in a much shorter time than usual, and then he sat down on a wide log to enjoy the lunch he had brought with him.  There were two big slices of bread and jam in one pocket, and a big apple in the other.  As he sat there, slowly munching, he began to feel drowsy.  He had awakened early that morning, and had worked hard in the hot sun.  He stretched himself out full length on the log, to rest his back while he finished eating his apple.

The branches overhead swayed gently back and forth.  His eyes followed them as they kept up that slow, monotonous motion against the bright sky.  He had no intention of closing them; in fact, he did not know they were closed, for in that same moment he was sound asleep.

The woodpecker went on tapping; the squirrel whisked back and forth along the limb; the same gray rabbit came out and hopped along beside the log where he lay.  Suddenly, it raised itself up to look at the strange sight, and then bounded away again.  The sun dropped lower and lower.  In the open fields there was still light, but the thicket was gray with the subdued shadows of the gloaming.