Ten days had passed.
At the Nigger-Heel plantation Mustard Prophet, nursing a battered head,
was curing an alligator skin which he had nailed upon a barn door, and
was keeping careful guard over two green-plush boxes, each containing a
rabbit-foot.
Mustard entered the junk-room full of Marse Tom’s curiosities, opened a
drawer in a desk, and brought forth the two luck charms which had caused
him so much trouble.
“It ’pears to me like dese here lef’ hind foots is lost dere power,” he
muttered to himself.
He held up one box which looked rather messy, because Mustard had
rescued it from an alligator’s stomach. He continued his soliloquy:
“Now you take de hist’ry of dis here foot: Cap’n Kerlerac gib dis’n to
Miss Virginia Gaitskill fifteen years ago when she warn’t nothin’ but a
little ole spindle-leg gal. An’ whut come to pass? Her paw an’ maw died
in furin parts somewhar an’ she had to move back to Tickfall. Little Bit
tole little Marse Org dat a rabbit-foot fotch luck, so he stole dis’n
out of his sister’s room, swiped a pipe an’ smoked rabbit terbacker, an’
mighty nigh died. When Skeeter Butts tuck Org home an seen dis
rabbit-foot, he thought it wus mine an’ I thought it wus mine because it
looked jes’ like mine. So I sneaked up to Miss Virginia’s room to steal
it back, an’ I had my hand on de very place whar it wus, when dat little
ole Org boy skeart de gizzard outen me, playin’ Indian an’ whoopin’
behime my back.
“An’ Skeeter swiped dis foot fer me, an’ hopped in his automobile to
make his escapement, an’ he run off a busted bridge into de Cooley
bayou, chased by all de hawgs an’ sheeps an’ cattle an’ hosses an’ mules
an’ dawgs an’ mens in Tickfall. Atter dat, Skeeter tried to fotch dis
rabbit-foot back to Miss Virginia because it ’twarn’t de one we wanted,
an’ he had dis foot on his own pusson when he tuck dat hell-bustin’
tumble down Marse Tom’s steps, an’ he had it in his hand when he snuck
across de yard an’ dat alligator tried to eat him up. Den Skeeter
throwed dis rabbit-foot, plush box an’ all, down dat alligator’s gullet,
an’ whut happened to dat varmint atter he swallowed dis foot, an’ had
all de luck inside his own hide? He got kilt!”
He laid this unlucky foot back in the green-plush box, placed it
reverently in the drawer, shaking his head over the mystery how a luck
charm could be attended with so much misfortune.
“Naw, suh, dis’n is done lost de power,” he announced.
Then he lifted the other green-plush box, lifted a rabbit-foot out of
it, and gazed with sacred awe upon this talisman.
“Dis here is Marse Tom’s left hind foot of a rabbit kilt in a graveyard
in de dark of de moon,” he announced. “But take de secret myst’ry of de
hist’ry of dis here foot: it wus in Marse Tom’s own house when all dat
rousement touck place an’ busted up Miss Virginia’s party. An’ I had dis
foot in my own coat pocket on my own pussonal self when Cap’n Kerley
busted my head wid dat bat an’ I mighty nigh shot his snout off wid my
pistol!”
Mustard Prophet reached up and tenderly caressed a bandage upon his
wounded head.
“Naw, suh,” he sighed. “’Tain’t resomble to me dat dis foot is still got
de authority. I’ll keep it, but I don’t never trust it no more. Mr.
On-lucky Foot, I axes you good-by!”
He solemnly placed his thick lips upon the cushiony bottom of the
rabbit’s foot, and kissed it farewell.
In Gaitskill’s stable in Tickfall, an ideal playhouse for two boys,
Orren Randolph Gaitskill and Little Bit had formed a joint ownership
over eleven interesting objects: One baseball bat which had “busted a
nigger’s head,” and ten pistol bullets which had been extracted from the
walls in the Gaitskill home. At frequent intervals an argument started
between them as to which of the ten bullets had wounded Captain Kerley
Kerlerac in the face.
“Ef I knowed which one it wus, I’d shore tote it roun’ wid me fer luck,”
Little Bit said.
“This bat is a lucky bat. It blooded Mustard’s head. But we can’t carry
it around for luck,” Org said.
“Naw, suh, but we can kiss it fer luck,” Little Bit proclaimed.
“That’s right,” Org said. “You kiss one end and I’ll kiss the other.”
They solemnly held it up between them, and white lips and black lips
caressed opposite ends of the big stick.
In the Gaitskill home, Captain Kerley Kerlerac entered and asked for
Virginia. This was his tenth call since the night of the dinner ten days
before. But now, for the first time, the bandage was removed from his
face.
A long red scar marked the face from the point of the chin to the lobe
of the ear.
For the first time Virginia saw that mark which he would carry to his
grave. Kerlerac noticed that look of distress, but he had a little
question which he often asked, and it always had the effect of diverting
her mind from anything, however important, to something which was vastly
more important.
“Do you love me as much as ever?” he asked quietly.
But the girl could not take her eyes from the long red scar. Her chin
quivered with emotion and her lips drooped with the pain of the thought
of that night of comedy when he had to suffer this wound.
“Stoop over and I’ll tell you,” she whispered.
He bent his head to hear the whisper from her fragrant lips.
She put both arms around his neck and kissed the scar upon his cheek.
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