Dazzle Zenor went to the Hen-Scratch saloon and sent word to Skeeter
that she must see him right away. When he came out to the rear, she lost
no time in stating her business.
“Hopey jes’ come to my place an’ tole me dat dar ain’t no Gaitskills at
home. Org an’ Little Bit is goned to de woods; Marse Tom is down to de
bank, an’ ole miss an’ Miss Virginny is gone out fer a automobile ride;
Mustard Prophet is gone out to de Nigger-Heel plantation, an’ is takin’
Hopey an’ Popsy Spout wid him to give ’em a outin’. Now is yo’ time to
git de rabbit-foot.”
“Yes’m,” Skeeter agreed. “Dis time am choosen of de Lawd. Is you willin’
to he’p me?”
“Suttinly. I’s in on de reeward bill.”
“Dis is de plan,” Skeeter said. “I walks up to Marse Tom’s jes’
easylike, kinder moseyin’ along, an’ I sneaks in de back way an’ I
sneaks out de back way an’ I walks down de back side of de hill an’
makes a roundance to de road at de front of de bottom of de hill.”
“Dat’s de properest way to do,” Dazzle said.
“Yo’ plan is dis,” Skeeter continued. “You drives my little automobile
an’ waits fer me at de foot of de hill on de side of de road. You keeps
dat engyne runnin’ an’ you heads dat machine to’rds out of town. We goes
straight to de Nigger-Heel an’ gits our money.”
For half an hour Dazzle amused herself by riding around the town. It was
Saturday afternoon, a great crowd of country negroes was in Tickfall,
and the girl showed her skill as a driver by seeing how close she could
shave to the tail of the farm-wagons and the rear end of the mules and
horses and cattle that were on the street.
At one corner there was a drove of mules waiting to be sold at auction;
a little farther up the street there was a herd of bony cattle that had
been driven down from the hill farms to be sold; at another point there
was a flock of sheep lying in the dust, panting with the heat. Around
each of these there stood dozens of negroes, inspecting what was for
sale whether they intended to buy or not. Dazzle greeted all these
friends from the country, but firmly refused all requests for a ride,
for she was watching the time, and was determined to be at the
meeting-place when Skeeter arrived.
Skeeter sauntered around the streets for a little while, watching the
auctioneer in his business and admiring his line of talk. Then he
slipped quietly out of the crowded street and hurried to the home of
Colonel Tom Gaitskill.
It was not difficult or dangerous to rob a house with nobody at home.
Satisfying himself by an inspection, that he was really alone on the
premises, Skeeter entered through the kitchen, went into the little back
hall, climbed the back stairs, and entered the room of Miss Virginia
Gaitskill. He opened the drawer in her dresser and took out the
green-plush box, being careful not to disarrange anything in the drawer.
He paused long enough to open the box and assure himself that the
rabbit-foot was in it, then he placed the box in the inner pocket of his
coat and went out as quietly as he had come.
It had been so easy that he decided to go out the front way and thus
avoid the long detour necessary if he went down the hill on the far side
and had to walk around to the road. He peeped around the corner of the
house in the front, and dodged back in a hurry.
He saw Org and Little Bit climbing over the fence into the horse-lot.
They looked tired, as if they had run a long distance, and they looked
either excited or scared, as if something unusual had happened; and they
were in a hurry, for they climbed the fence rather than take the time to
open and shut the gate.
Skeeter’s short hair stood upon his cranium like hog-bristles. Had Orren
Randolph Gaitskill found out in some way that he was trying to steal the
rabbit-foot? Could Little Bit have been around the saloon and overheard
the conversation about the rabbit-foot between himself and Dazzle? Were
they coming to the house now to protect this precious green-plush box
from theft?
“I reckin I’s gwine take de long roundance,” Skeeter muttered in a
panicky tone as he ran with all his speed toward the rear of the house,
keeping the building between himself and the two boys, and when he
started down the hill, dodging from bush to bush like a rabbit.
But the boys had something on their minds besides Skeeter Butts. On
their long run from the little branch where the bridge had been blown
up, Org had thought of something that would attract the attention of the
people in Tickfall and register in their minds the fact that he and
Little Bit were in town.
Org had ridden with his Uncle Tom in the automobile, and had seen
Colonel Gaitskill shut off the power from the engine and coast down the
hill from his house to the town. This had given Org an idea on which he
had been working for several days. Under a shed in the rear of the
Gaitskill stable there was an abandoned, worn-out buggy, without any
shafts. Org had tied a rope to each end of the front axle near the front
wheels, and had found by experiment that he could guide the buggy by
pulling on the rope, just as if he were driving a horse. Little Bit had
pushed the buggy around the smooth, level horse-lot and Org had been
able to guide it without difficulty.
So now, confronting this emergency, he decided that the best game he
could play would be that of coasting down the Gaitskill hill toward the
town in that old buggy. It would be plenty of fun of a kind that would
attract attention from those in town.
He instructed Little Bit what to do, and the two boys pushed the buggy
out of the horse-lot and stopped it on the brow of the hill. Org climbed
into his buggy on the top of the hill just about the time that Skeeter
Butts seated himself in his automobile beside Dazzle Zenor at the foot
of the hill.
The two started about the same time.
Skeeter planned to go up the street about a block, then turn to his
right and go out the principal street to the Nigger-Heel plantation.
Org expected to stop at the foot of the hill, and push his buggy back to
the top and coast down again.
One thing that Org had overlooked was that his Uncle Tom’s automobile
had a brake. The buggy lacked that very important accessory, and when
Little Bit pushed it off and climbed on behind, it had not traveled one
hundred feet until it was going thirty miles an hour. Half-way down the
hill it was “doing fifty,” and at the foot of the hill it was just a
rattling horror of incredible speed with momentum enough to carry it
half a mile on a level road.
That Providence which looks out for fools, drunken men, and children,
gave the buggy just the right turn at the right time to shoot it out
toward Main Street. Its momentum carried it across the street like a
rocket, sent it plunging madly across the court-house lawn, hurled it
into the middle of a lot in the rear of the court-house where the
country people hitched their horses and mules, and there it ended its
sensational and spectacular flight by colliding with a hitching-rack,
spilling out the two boys like peas are tossed from a spoon, and tearing
itself to pieces!
The two youngsters sprang up unhurt and made tracks away from there.
One old mule had seen the buggy coming over the court-house lawn with
nothing to pull it and nothing to push it. It did not look natural to
him; it made the same impression on him that a pair of pants would make
on you if you saw the pants coming down the street with nobody in them.
That mule opened his great mouth and uttered a trumpetlike bray just as
the vehicle hung up on the hitching-rack. Then mister mule broke his
bridle and went galloping up the street, looking back and bawling with
every jump.
Every mule in the hitching-lot promptly broke loose and went galloping
after the first mule, also looking back at the strange vehicle which had
come among them. All the horses followed, neighing their fright, some
pulling buggies and some wagons; some with harness on, some with
saddles, and as they all went up the street together, every horse and
mule on both sides of the street broke away and joined in the
procession.
Many of the animals did not know what it was all about. But it is a fact
that if one runaway starts down a street, all the other horses and mules
will run with him. They believe in safety first.
Two blocks away there was a herd of cattle standing in the middle of the
street being sold at auction. They saw the cyclone coming and fled
before it. A block farther up the street a flock of terrified sheep saw
the cattle coming, and started out ahead of the cows. A block farther on
a drove of hogs saw the sheep coming, and they also believed in safety
first, and decided to get there first, so they led the procession.
As the grunting, bleating, bellowing, braying, nickering procession of
animals swept forward, all the country dogs which had followed their
masters into town from every point of the compass fell in behind and
became a mighty chorus of yelping, barking canines, and their number was
augmented and their chorus strengthened by all the dogs which Tickfall
could contribute. And all the men, women, and children, white and black,
and all the shades of color between, swept out of the stores and offices
and shops to see what the disturbance was about, and these fell in
behind and added their multitudinous shoutings to the noise and
excitement which was like the ululation of wind and wave during a great
storm at sea.
In an incredible time the principal street of Tickfall was swept clean
of all its live stock and of all its men, but it was littered everywhere
with pieces of broken buggies, broken wagons, broken harness, and a
dust-cloud was settling upon that vacated street as if Mother Nature was
trying to bury what was left out of her sight.
Now for the luck which attends the escapades of youth: every person on
the street had looked toward the teams which were running away, and not
back at what had originally caused their flight. Those boys had careened
over the court-house yard, had come to smash in the middle of the
hitching-lot, and had got up and gone away from there without being seen
by a single person who identified them as the source of all the trouble.
As for Colonel Gaitskill’s buggy, he never missed it, and if he had, he
could never have identified it among the smashed and broken vehicles
that were junked in the hitching-lot after the animals broke loose.
The farmers knew that if one mule runs away every other mule follows; so
the poor mule who first saw the buggy and uttered his frightened bawl
was blamed for the whole catastrophe!
As for Skeeter Butts and Dazzle Zenor, they were about two blocks from
the court-house when they heard that first terrified bray behind them.
In a moment the braying and bawling and bleating and squealing and
barking and yelling increased greatly.
We have the best authority for the statement that the wicked flee where
no man pursueth.
Skeeter and Dazzle decided that all the inhabitants of Tickfall were
after them for the theft of the rabbit-foot!
Skeeter took one look behind him at that cloud of dust, caught hold of
his spark lever and pulled it down to the last notch, then slowly opened
his throttle until it could go no farther. The speed of his flight broke
all records in Louisiana for his make of automobile.
His eyes were upon the road just as far ahead of him as he could see,
for he knew that going at his present speed it would take a long time to
stop. In less than a minute he was drawing near to the bridge over the
little branch where Org and Little Bit had played with the “cannon” a
short time before to the complete wreckage of that frail structure.
Skeeter knew this bridge was too narrow for him to cross at his present
rate of progress, and he began to slow up.
Suddenly Dazzle uttered a terrified shriek and pointed ahead—the bridge
was gone!
Skeeter shut off all the power, pressed with all his strength upon the
foot-brake, set his emergency brake with all the muscle in his arm, came
to the very edge of the branch, going no faster than a boy could push a
wheelbarrow, and—rolled in!
Dazzle Zenor foresaw what would happen and jumped out. But Skeeter was
behind the wheel and could not move quick enough, and he went down ten
feet into the creek with his little machine.
There was the crack of a broken spring, the explosion of two blown-out
tires, the rending, grinding noise of torn fenders, and the terrified
wailing of a little barkeeper who had been bounced out into the creek
and who had his clothes wet and his feelings hurt and nothing else!
And even that wailing ceased when Skeeter heard what was coming. Dazzle
saw it coming first. She could not get off the road because of a
barbed-wire fence on each side, so she hopped down into the water of the
branch beside Skeeter. And there, crouched beside the bank of the creek,
they saw the strangest sight two people ever witnessed.
First, a herd of hogs came squealing to the broken bridge, looked down
at them, uttered a surprised series of grunts, split into two parties
and ran down into the creek and over into the woods. Next followed a
flock of bleating sheep, and they took a look at Skeeter and Dazzle,
split into two like the pigs had done, some going down on one side, some
on the other, and all of them scattering in the woods. Then followed a
herd of cattle, then a lot of mules and horses, then a great multitude
of dogs, then excited men in automobiles, then men, women, and children
afoot!
All of them without exception came to the very edge of the branch where
the bridge was broken, looked down at Skeeter and Dazzle, expressed
surprise either by grunt or squeal or bellow or bray or neigh or yell or
laugh—then turned to one side and went down into the branch and into the
woods!
By the time this unique procession had arrived at one end of the broken
bridge, a farm-wagon drove up and stopped at the other end. The wagon
contained Mustard and Hopey Prophet and Popsy Spout on their way to town
from the Nigger-Heel plantation. Popsy was asleep.
About seven hundred people had assembled at that spot, and nearly all
the live stock in the Parish was out in the woods!
To Skeeter’s unbounded amazement he found himself a wounded hero instead
of a criminal and a captured fugitive.
“Did the stock run you down on the bridge, Skeeter?” Sheriff Flournoy
asked; and that gave Skeeter his cue.
“Yes, suh. De bridge is been pretty rickety a long time, an’ dem
animiles piled up all aroun’ me an’ we jes’ nachelly all went down.”
“If you want to bring suit against this Parish for injuries to yourself
and damage to your automobile, I’ll help you,” Colonel Gaitskill
snapped. “I’ve been telling that road commissioner to repair this bridge
for the last three years, and now he’ll get what is coming to him, and
we’ll make him pay for his neglect of duty.”
That word “damages” sounded good to Skeeter.
“I’s pretty bad hurt, Marse Tom,” he sighed, when he saw a chance to
collect money for his injuries. “Bofe ankles is spraint an’ my back is
busted, an’ my neck feels kinder stretched and loose, an’ my head——”
“Tell all that to the trial jury,” Gaitskill snapped. “You can ride back
in the wagon with Mustard Prophet—I think you had better go on right
now!”
Mustard drove down into the woods and, crossing the branch, came up on
the other side of the broken bridge to the road. It took four men to
help Skeeter in the wagon, so great were his injuries after he heard
that magic word—damages!
The first place they passed on the way back was the Shin Bone
eating-house. Skeeter decided that this was a good place to demonstrate
how badly hurt he was, and he could exhibit his disability in the
presence of many witnesses.
“I cain’t trabbel a inch furder, brudders,” he sighed. “I’s gittin’
weaker an’ weaker all de time. You better drap me off here at de
resteraw.”
So Mustard picked him up from the bed of the wagon, carried him bodily
into the eating-house and laid him out on one of the dining-tables.
Dazzle and Hopey and Popsy Spout followed them in, and Shin Bone hurried
to see what the trouble was.
“I think I’s fixin’ to die, Mustard,” Skeeter wailed, thrusting his
yellow hand into the inside pocket of his coat. “So I passes dis little
thing over to you befo’ I j’ines de angel band dat toots de horns aroun’
de golden throne.”
The little thing was a green-plush box containing a rabbit-foot.
“Dat reminds my mind, Mustard,” Shin Bone exclaimed, as he beheld the
box. “I got somepin dat b’longs to you, too.”
He went to his cash-drawer, opened it, and in an apartment underneath he
brought out his treasure and handed it to Mustard.
It was a green-plush box containing a rabbit-foot.
Skeeter’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. As for Mustard, he was so
completely dumfounded that he merely stared at the two green-plush boxes
in helpless wonder.
“Whar did you git dis green-plush box, Skeeter?” Mustard asked at last.
“Ask Dazzle,” Skeeter wailed. “She knows—you know, too.”
“Whar you git yo’ green-plush box, Shin?” Mustard asked next, in a tone
of superstitious consternation.
“About three weeks ago, ole Popsy Spout went out to yo’ house to spend
de day. When he got back, he come in here an’ et, an’ he lef’ dis green
box on de eatin’ table. He explavicated about it a little bit an’ said
it b’longed to you!”
Mustard turned around with the righteous fury of Michel the archangel
contending with the devil to “bring against him a railing
accusation”—but, alas, Popsy had taken a hint from Skeeter’s recumbent
attitude, and was stretched out upon a dining-table sound asleep.
The unexpected duplication of the rabbit-feet and the two boxes had the
effect of relieving Skeeter’s pretended injuries to the extent that he
was able to travel a little farther.
“Take me home, Mustard,” he wailed. “Lemme die at home in my own little
cabin whut Marse John gib to me.”
Mustard quickly understood that what Skeeter really wanted was to get to
some place where he could talk about the new complication in the matter
of luck charms. He lifted Skeeter in his arms and carried him back to
the wagon, leaving Popsy asleep upon the table, and leaving Dazzle and
Hopey to find their own conveyance to their house in their own feet.
When Mustard and Skeeter had closed the door upon their conference in
Skeeter’s cabin, Mustard laid the rabbit-foot on Skeeter’s knee.
“You got to take it back, brudder,” he said earnestly. “’Twon’t do fer
us folks to steal Marse Tom’s rabbit-foot. Us is got to ack hones’.”
“Mebbe so,” Skeeter said doubtfully. “But fur’s I’m concerned, Marse Tom
kin hop along widout dis foot.”
“It cain’t be did, Skeeter. You got to take it back.”
“I done been hurt in a automobile bust-up,” Skeeter protested. “I ain’t
able to git about. De dorctor will come here in a little while an’
examinate me fer cote-house damages on account my many injuries.”
“I makes dis trade wid you,” Mustard replied. “You’s got fifty dollars
of my money dat you ain’t earnt because you didn’t recover my lucky
foot. I’ll gib you dat fifty to tote dis foot back.”
“I got you,” Skeeter answered promptly. “When do I tote her back?”
“To-morrer night,” Mustard told him. “Marse Tom is gibin’ a big dinner
at his house an’ you kin slip in de house while dey is eatin’.”
“I’ll do it,” Skeeter promised. “But dis is de last thing I’s gwine do
fer you as long as I live. No more detecative stealin’ jobs fer me!”