skeeter butts hung up the receiver at his end of the line and staggered across the hen-scratch saloon. his face was convulsed, and the odd distortions due to the contraction and relaxation of its muscles would lead one to believe that an electric shock received over the telephone had twisted his face and he was trying to set it right.
skeeter had received a shock. four friends, beholding him, noted that his face was bloodless, his yellow fingers trembled and were beyond his control, his knees shook and buckled under him as he walked, and his chin was aquiver.
“bad luck, niggers,” he whined through chattering teeth. “a band of robbers has busted into marse tom gaitskill’s house, an’ dey is killin’ dazzle zenor.”
the four men sitting at the table quivered with excitement mingled with fear. with that emotional race, any sort of excitement is expressed by noise, but fear calls for silence. for a brief time the silence was so great that the five could distinctly hear the ticking of hitch diamond’s big silver watch.
hitch diamond, the big prize-fighter, sat in a rickety chair. as he meditated upon the possibilities of the case which skeeter had stated, and his emotions increased, that chair produced an irritating squeak with every inhalation and expulsion of hitch’s breath. all the noise produced in that room was caused by hitch’s watch and his chair. the rest were like frightened quail that squat and try to merge with the scenery.
it seemed to be a long, long time before anyone ventured to break that oppressive silence. finally hitch spoke bravely:
“go up an’ rescue dazzle, skeeter. i’ll be glad to stay behime an’ take keer of de saloon.”
four chairs moved uneasily, emitting a scraping sound. figger bush pulled a corncob pipe from his pocket, and his trembling hands caused the stem to drop from the cob and fall under the table. figger stooped to pick it up, found that it was dark under the table, and straightened up without his pipe-stem. he could get that pipe-stem to-morrow.
“me, too,” figger bush quacked. “i’ll he’p hitchie keep de saloon.”
mustard prophet, the scientific agriculturist of the party, took a big red apple from his pocket and bit deeply into its juicy substance. he was trying to appear disinterested, but his favorite kind of apple was tasteless to him now.
“dar ain’t no use fer de rest of us to go,” mustard muttered thickly, munching at his apple, and glancing at pap curtain. “skeeter kin handle de case——”
“you got to go wid me, mustard,” skeeter interrupted. “dazzle tole me dat hopey wus in de house, too—an’ de robbers is killin’ her.”
the part of the apple mustard held in his fingers slipped away and rolled across the saloon floor; the part he had in his mouth strangled in his quivering throat.
“dat’s too bad,” he announced in a tone of disinterested sympathy. “but dat serves hopey right, an’ she deeserves all she gits. me an’ my nigger wife don’t speak no more. i went dar to-night, an’ axed hopey to gimme some hot biscuits an’ a few sirup, an’ she wouldn’t do it!”
“i think dis here is yo’ job, skeeter,” pap curtain snarled, the habitual sneer upon his face becoming more acute and repulsive as he tried to conceal his timidity. “dazzle didn’t want none of us buttin’ in, or she’d axed fer us. ef you wants to make a hit wid dazzle, you got to pick up a brave heart an’ go out dar an’ kill dat band of robbers—jes’ like when you wus in de army.”
“but us army soldiers didn’t do no fightin’ all by our lonely selfs,” skeeter wailed. “we fi’t an’ bled an’ died in regimints!”
“you oughter hab fotch yo’ army home wid you,” pap sneered. “somepin like dis might happen sudden any time, an’ you knowed you’d need it.”
the telephone rang sharply, and every man jumped with fright.
“gosh, dat skeart me!” pap curtain exclaimed. “answer de telerphome, skeeter.”
“answer de telerphome, figger,” skeeter squalled, feeling nervously in all his pockets as if he were hunting for the most important thing in the world and could not abandon the search.
“my shoe-string is come ontied,” figger answered as he bent over his foot. “you answer de phome, mustard!”
mustard did not move. the telephone bell subsided with a final little tinkle.
“dar now, it’s too late!” mustard lamented. “i’d ’a’ answered, only but i’m total deef in one y-ear.”
the telephone rang again, sharply, insistently; rang for a good five minutes.
“answer it, hitch diamond!” skeeter wailed in the midst of the sound.
hitch pretended not to hear.
“i bet dat is hopey telerphomin’ me dat she’s dead,” mustard prophet muttered in pitiful fright. “i won’t never git no more hot biscuits. hopey wus shore a good cook an’ a good wife. us had little spats, but dar warn’t never no hard feelin’s.”
“come on, fellers,” skeeter interrupted. “less go up on de hill an’ see whut’s happened.”
“i ain’t gwine in dat house!” pap curtain exclaimed. “i don’t like to see blood spilt aroun’ all over marse tom’s nice carpets.”
“i hope dey don’t spile de floor too much,” hitch grumbled as he rose to his feet. “marse tom always makes me scrub up de messes because hopey’s too dang fat to lean over.”
“i’ll let pap guard de front of de house an’ hide behime de big pecan-tree,” skeeter announced, glad enough to get company. “hitch kin guard de kitchen by hidin’ behime de meat-house. figger an’ mustard kin guard each side of de house by layin’ on de groun’ outside de lawn-fence.”
while skeeter was issuing these orders, little bit had entered the saloon, and stood listening. when skeeter ended, he spoke:
“i’s gwine guard de hen-scratch by hidin’ behime de bar counter,” he giggled, without an idea what all the excitement was about.
“whar you been at, you little debbil?” skeeter butts snapped, whirling about to face the hen-scratch’s factotum. “you stay an’ keep dis saloon—an’ ef de telerphome rings, you answer it.”
skeeter ran to a little safe in the corner of the saloon and brought forth four guns, which he distributed to their rightful owners; then he took his own automatic from behind the bar, and the five negroes started in a swift run for gaitskill’s home.
by the time they had climbed to the top of the hill on which the fine colonial home was located, they entered the yard, breathless and panting. from that high point they could look out over the village, glowing in the darkness like a great firefly, with its countless lights on the crooked streets and its glowing windows. but their attention was concentrated upon the house before them. the drawing-room glowed with brilliant light.
four of the men quickly went to the places assigned them and dropped down in hiding. skeeter sneaked from shrub to shrub, lay down and crawled around rose-bushes, ran from the shelter of one tree across the exposed and open places to the grateful shelter of another tree, until he came close to one of the lighted windows. reaching up, he straddled the limb over his head and looked fearfully into the drawing-room.
he saw hopey and dazzle seated very comfortably. they seemed to be very much amused at something, for they laughed constantly.
“dis here is some kind of joke,” skeeter muttered to himself as he dropped from the limb. “i’ll sneak in de kitchen an’ come through de house an’ supprise ’em.”
slipping to the rear, he emitted a low whistle and located hitch diamond by the meat-house, which gave him the courage to open the door of the dark kitchen and enter.
there was not a negro in this rescue-party who was not thoroughly familiar with the gaitskill home. in the years past they had served in that house in every capacity, and knew every room and closet, and the contents of each. there were a dozen other homes in tickfall with which they were equally familiar, for the good house servant is a privileged character in the house, and his presence in the home is coveted by every housekeeper.
so it was no trouble for skeeter to find his way in the dark to the lighted drawing-room.
a bellow of fright from hopey and a squeal of terror from dazzle greeted him as he stepped from behind a door with a pistol in his hand.
“whut you got to say now, hopey?” dazzle exclaimed, when she recovered from her fright. “i tole you skeeter wus a brave nigger——”
there was a loud clatter at the front door, and pap curtain’s voice spoke:
“open dis door, skeeter! hurry!”
skeeter sprang to the door and threw it open. little bit, panting, dripping with perspiration, and almost exhausted, was pushed into the room by pap curtain, who had to support him to prevent his falling to the floor. in the blaze of light which came through the open door, figger and mustard and hitch got the courage to come out from their hiding-places and listen.
“bad luck, skeeter!” little bit panted. “i ain’t know whut kind of nigger bizziness dis is, but you-alls is got yo’selfs in a jam.”
“how you know?” skeeter quavered.
“i answered de telerphome,” little bit gasped.
“whut did it say?” skeeter asked desperately.
“it say—it say—de gal at de telerphome orfice say she listened in when dazzle phomed to you, an’ dat she has called all de white folks in tickfall up an’ tole ’em dat marse tom’s house wus being robbed!”
thereupon hopey prophet walked to the electric-light switch and turned out every light. there are those who love darkness rather than light because their deeds are evil.
“listen!” pap exclaimed tragically. “i kin hear dem white folks comin’ now!”
indeed, it was not difficult to hear the sound of running feet. a moment later could be heard the galloping feet of horses. then automobile lights began to whip the darkness as they turned the corners at high speed and roared like speeding beasts as they came up the long hill. then, in the darkness, a great light fell on skeeter.
“us niggers oughtn’t to be here when de white folks come,” he wailed. “ef dey ketch us in here, dey’ll put us in jail. ef dey see us leavin’, dey’ll shoot us!”
“easy, eve’ybody!” pap curtain hissed as he opened the front door. “git still!”
then a low sigh of disappointment escaped from every throat. the front lawn was all aquiver with the dark shadows of moving men!
“good-by, fair world!” figger bush whimpered. “us is caught like a bug in a jug.”
“shut up!” pap curtain snarled. “whar kin we hide?”
“git up on de roof!” skeeter butts suggested. “dar’s a ladder in de attic, an’ we kin climb through a trap-door to de roof.”
eight negroes went shuffling up the steps toward the top of the house just as the clatter of feet sounded upon the porch, and the front door was pushed open.
four perspiring negroes boosted hopey up the ladder, and pushed her capacious form through the narrow square opening to the roof. then they cautiously lowered the door and gratefully seated themselves upon it.
“safe!” skeeter exulted. “us is safe!”
alas! he did not know that the door he was sitting on had a catch-lock on the inside, and that he and his friends were on that roof to stay until rescued!
