Tom Cole shifted his left leg from its cramped under position, replacing
it over the right. He was careful not to let his heel scrape the shiny
painted floor of the outer office of the Snell-Judson Real Estate and
Development Company; white folks were particular about scratches. He had
been waiting since eight-thirty for Mr. Judson to come in from the
mountain; it was now after ten. It wasn't his fault if Mr. Judson was
late. He hadn't done anything to deserve what Mr. Judson had said a week
ago come next Friday, that waiting was the best thing he did.
He considered a patch once neatly covering the left knee with owlish
deliberation. "My ole 'ooman's a powerful patcher," he told Peter, the
gap watchman, when the mend was new. "Say she gonter patch mah britches
wid shoe leather, she do."
That was a long time ago; the patch had bulged out on one side, and torn
loose. He picked carefully at the frayed gap, widening it. Maybe Mr.
Judson would notice it--it was about time he got that brown suit the
boss wore around the garden in the morning.
He brought his mind back with an effort to what he had come for. He went
over the figures again, painfully printed on the back of an envelope
picked from the kitchen trash-basket. He rehearsed carefully what he
would have to say. It wouldn't be hard to get that thirty-five dollars.
Maybe he ought to ask for forty, or forty-five; that would leave
something for himself and Stella.
He'd have to try, some day, to get more out of Miss' Mary for the First
Zion Church. The organ money was overdue; and there was a second-hand
red carpet at Geohegan's that would just fit the Sunday School room.
He snorted aloud, to the amazement of the stenographer busily at work in
the corner. Shaking her head, she returned to her machine.... That
Scales Green and the 'coon dog he wanted to sell, at church last Sunday!
Wanted two dollars for an old yellow pup that looked like he'd only
chase cows. Probably picked him up; the dog ought to be in the pound.
Maybe he stole him. That was a nice 'coon dog that storekeeper Carr had;
there was one just like him running around the Ellis Dairy below the
Thirty-Eighth Street road. If he caught that dog roaming around Mr.
Judson's place, he'd show them! Anyhow, Pup and Whitey were good
'cooners, he didn't need any more. You had to feed dogs somehow.
He mustn't forget about the cow-feed, or the saddle.
Paul Judson walked briskly in, an aster blue-purple against the soft
gray lapel. "Hello, Tom, you here? I thought you were to prune those
forsythias this morning."
"Miss' Mary done tole me to go by Dexter's an' have de side-saddle
fixed, suh. One of de sturrup strops is broke. Ah had to come in for
cow-feed an' oats."
"Get an order from Miss Simpson for the feed. And drive by the Union
Depot on your way out; there's a box of fruit trees to set out on the
hill across the gap."
He passed into the inside offices.
When he crossed over to the title room, half an hour later, Tom still
sat in the same place, the top rim of the folded order showing neatly
above the sweat-band in the cap on the negro's lap. "Still here?"
Tom rose awkwardly, puffing out his lips in uncertainty. "There wuz
sump'n else Ah wanted to see you 'bout, suh."
"Well?"
"Ah wanted to ax a favor, Mr. Judson."
"What is it?"
"Ah wondered ef you could spare me a loan, suh? Make an edvance?"
"What do you want it for?"
The crumpled cap fell to the floor; Tom stooped and picked it up. "We
done decided to sen' Diana to de Tuskegee school, suh. You got some of
mah money; an' Ah's been savin' till Ah's got thuhteen dollars. She kin
wu'k out in Tuskegee, an' make mos' of her 'spenses. She's goin' to take
millinery."
"How much do you need?"
"Thuhty-five dollars, suh. Dat's for de fu'st year. She'll hatter go two
years."
Paul considered the matter; a sigh of irritation escaped him. Higher
education for negroes might be a good thing, in some cases; it was
usually a waste of time. There was something wrong with the idea of it;
a serving class ought, naturally, to remain uneducated. Education had a
tendency to stir up unrest. Negroes who knew too much might seem
respectful, but there was a suspicious glibness about them that warned
that they had acquired something which, if it became formidable or
wide-spread, might question the social framework on which Adamsville and
the South were built. Still, Diana seemed a hard-working girl; it might
do no harm.
"All right. Whenever she's ready to go, you can have the money."
"Thank you so kin'ly, suh. Ah'll pay back every cent----"
"Don't forget those fruit trees, Tom."
While Diana was finishing her first year, Tom's prosperity became too
much for him. He had kept his eyes on the plump Wyandotte pullets at the
Ellis Dairy, the same place that had lost a prized possum dog six months
before. There was an eight-foot fence, with two feet of barbed wire at
the top; and he knew that the Ellis boys had guns, and used them. But
the chicken runs were behind the cow barns, and thus hidden from the
house; and he had discovered an opening under the rear of the fence,
where a mere trickle remained of the roystering April freshet. This gap
was protected only by stakes angled inward from within the fence; and
the moist ground allowed the central three to be worked up with ease.
He chose a May night, moonless and peaceful. It was almost one o'clock
when he made his wet way under the fence, and followed the chicken-wire
to the roosts. His fumbling fingers found the staple which held the lock
chain. He pulled his hammer out of one of the "croker sacks," inserted
the claw and pulled. It was hard in starting, then came easily; only the
last pull resulted in a subdued and nerve-wracking screech as the metal
curved out of the hard wood. He let the heated staple down quietly, and
opened the door. The hens kept up a sleepy clutter; now was the time to
use all his skill and tact.
He moved his hand from the wall along the pole, until it collided with
the first warm feathers. His mind wandered to a memory of a night when
he had seen an owl steal one of Mr. Judson's prized game hens. The thief
had settled on a tree limb occupied by the hen, and gradually commenced
shoving. The hen sleepily gave way. As she came to the end of the
lopped-off limb, she had fallen, and the bird of prey had caught her
before she reached the ground. Then Tom had fired.... Good thing nobody
was watching him!
There was a smothered gurgle as his fingers closed around the neck.
Deftly he twisted the head until the bones gave, then slipped it into
the bag. Another, and another--the fowls had increased their drowsy
disturbance, but were not yet alarmed.
He got two more, then decided that he had enough. No need to be a hog
about it.
He started back for the door; his knee hit a feeding trough with a
sudden crack. The noise was not great; but at the same moment a voice
rang out, "Come out, nigger, I've got the door covered. Come out, or
I'll shoot hell out of you."
Lordie, lordie! No use lying low; there was no other door to the
henhouse, and if he waited until morning, he was caught sure.
"All right, suh, Ah's comin'."
He slid open the door a trifle; the light of a lantern lit on the ground
cut its way in. "No tricks, now. Drop whatever you've got, and come out
with your hands in the air--or I'll blow your head off."
"Ah ain't doin' no tricks, boss. Doan' shoot, for de Lawd's sake!"
"Come on, or----" came another voice.
He slid fearfully out, his arms raised. He stood blinking in the sudden
shine.
From his left two figures closed in, shotguns half raised. "Just one old
nigger, Ned; we'll phone the constable and turn him over."
"Lawdie, lawdie! Doan' give me to no constable; Ah ain't done nuthin!"
"How many chickens did you get, you black----"
Tom spoke volubly. "Ah thought dis was Mr. Joneses' roos', cap'n, an' he
said Ah could come in some night an'----"
"Why, I know that nigger. Didn't you bring in Mr. Judson's Jersey last
month for service?"
"Yessuh, dat Ah did. Ah's a minister of de gospel, an' ef Ah's made a
little mistake to-night, Ah'll swear ter Gawd never to----"
"Bring him along."
"Lawd, boss, doan' send me to jail. Dey'll give me five years. Let me go
dis time.... Ah won't never----"
"Come on----"
"Ah's a minister of de gospel, suh, an' ef Ah's arrested, what will mah
flock think? Ef you lets me go----"
"How many hens did you get?"
'Fo', suh; fo' or five."
"I'll give you four or five seconds to get out of here. And you leave
Adamsville, do you hear me? We know you. We're too busy to waste time
around the criminal court. But I warn you, get out! If I catch you
around this town again, I'll have Judge Hawkes send you up for ten
years. Git!"
"De Lawd will reward you, suh, for----"