As Jeb and I walked past the front porch we saw that Paw had fallen asleep in the swing, his usual jug of moonshine on the floor beside him.  His bare feet were grubby and propped up on the railing, and Jeb wondered that if he'd been sober, would Maw have sent him for a swim too?

Breaking into a trot, we hurried towards the river that formed the northern border of the farm.  It didn't quite deserve the title of river, as it was nothing more than an itty-bitty stream at this stage, and didn't become a proper river until it got near Jackson, the state capital.  The town of Pollen Bend was situated a few miles from our farm, where the river made a sharp turn south, giving our tiny metropolis its name.

Our feet raised clouds of dust as we cut through the bone-dry cornstalks on our way to our local watering hole, a little piece of the river shaded by oaks and beech trees.

When we got to the riverbank, we saw a young kid, aged maybe seven or eight, sitting on a rock, looking at the water.  We could tell he wasn't a local as he was wearing shoes and long trousers instead of jeans, so we knew he was from the block of holiday apartments between our farm and Pollen Bend.

He was trespassing, as this was our land, but we didn't care.  I for one was eager to hear tales of the big city.  'Hey,' I greeted him.  'You from Jackson?'

He looked confused.  'I suppose so,' he mumbled.  'Dad has to move around a bit.  I come from a few places, but I think I started off in Biloxi.'

Biloxi?  That wasn't even in Mississippi, so the kid was a real foreigner!

'Whyncha join us for a swim?  The water's real cool under these trees.'

'I can't.  I don't have my swimming trunks with me.'  He replied, a little wistfully I thought.

'What are swimming trunks?'  I asked before it hit me.  'Aw shucks, don't nobody around here wear fancy doodads to swim in.  We go in buck nekkid.'  I demonstrated by stripping off my ragged jeans and shirt and jumping into the deliciously cool water, followed closely by Jeb.

The kid looked shocked, and stayed where he was.  After Jeb and I had splashed around for a while, we got out and sat on the rocks to air dry before dressing.

'So what's your name?'  I asked after introducing Jeb and me.

'Arthur,' he said.  'Er... no, its John.'

'What?' said Jeb.  'You don't even know your own name?  That's silly!'

'I do so.  It's John.  John Markham.'

'So why did you say Arthur?'  I asked, puzzled.

At first he didn't want to talk about it, but Jeb and I can be pretty persistent, and after a while he loosened up.

'Can I trust you?' he asked.

'Scout's honour.'

So John began his story.

'I used to be called Arthur Stanley.  I lived with my Mom and Dad in Biloxi, like I told you.  Then one day my Dad saw somebody shoot a man, so he told the police all about it.  But it was a mob thing, and they threatened my Dad that they were going to shoot him or chop off his arms and legs because he told on one of their friends.  Or they were going to chop his head off or something.'

'Your Paw's a snitch?'  I asked, open-eyed.

'Well, he didn't know they were the mob.  He says he thought he was doing his...er ...civilian duty.  Anyway the police told him to change his name and mine and my Mom's names as well, and we had to move away from Biloxi.  It's something called an eye witness thing, I'm not sure.'

'Do you mean a Witness Pertection Programme?'  I was agog.  I'd seen the term in some of the penny dreadfuls that my Paw bought sometimes, and left lying around when he was liquored up.

'Thats' it! ' John squawked excitedly, and we had to explain about it to Jeb who was too young to understand.  It appears that the Feds will take care of somebody who's threatened by the mob, and help them change their names and homes, even find them jobs, so they can hide out until all the mobsters are dead or in jail.  The kids still have to go to school though, leaving their friends behind.  They can't tell anyone who they are or where they're going to be, but it seemed like John had held it in for so long he just had to tell somebody or bust.

Next we asked him about some of the places hed been.

'I don't know them all, but we've been to Mobile, Memphis, even New Orleans.  Oh, and Jackson, now here.  I had to have a new name and school in each place we went.  I get confused, trying to remember my name sometimes.  I've been Richard, Homer, Jethro, Harvey, Clyde and John, like now.  And St Louis as well.'

'St Louis?  That's a funny name for a boy.'

'No, a place we went to, silly.'

This was the most exciting thing that Jeb and I had ever heard.  I could imagine being on the run all the time, seeing all the cities that I had only heard of.  Hell, I'd never even been to Jackson, the state capital.  If I could talk Paw into watching a man get killed, I wouldn't have to run away and join the circus to get to see the world.

Right then I heard Paw hollerin our names, and we knew we had to pull on our duds and leave our new friend.

'How about meeting us here tomorrow, right here, and bring your swimming gear with you?  We could make ourselves into a secret swimming society.  How about The Three Jays, 'cos we're Jake, Jeb and John?'

'OK, if my mom lets me,' he said, and we organised a secret handshake, then left him there on the riverbank and ran home for our dinner.

The next afternoon we asked Maw if we could go swimming again, and she raised her eyes to the sky and murmured 'Glory be!' and told us to get back before dark.  In later years I realised that Maw sometimes needed some time to herself, and our swimming trips gave her a few minutes to put her feet up and relax in peace.

We got to our swimming hole and looked for John, but he wasn't there, and by the time we'd finished our swim, he still hadn't made an appearance.