The two sat down, sipped their drinks for a moment, then Skeeter remarked:
“Dat wus mighty bum racin’ we had to-day.”
“Shore wus,” Pap agreed. “Dar ain’t never no real racehosses at dis fair. Ef a feller’s got a hoss whut kin run a little, he picks the cockle-burs outen his tail, fotches him to town, and enters him in de race.”
“You come out powerful good, Pap,” the barkeeper said admiringly. “You muss ’a’ made a whole passel of money.”
“Yes, suh, I done it,” Pap assured him, draining his glass of liquor as he talked. “I didn’t bet none. I jes’ sold tips. But I shore had bad luck wid dat money at de las’.”
“Whut happened?” Skeeter inquired with great interest.
“You remember dat Sugar Sibley you wus wid? Well, suh, dat gal jes’ nachelly hoodooed me outen eve’y dollar I had on me, excusin’ dis one poor, lonesome nickel. She said she wus skeart I would git in bad comp’ny an’ lose it!”
“My Gawd, Pap!” Skeeter exclaimed, springing to his feet. “Whyn’t you tell me dat terr’ble news sooner?”
Pap did not answer. His head fell forward on his chest; his hands hung limply at his sides; he breathed stertorously, with his mouth open.
They still sagged from the weight of the coins they had contained, but now--they assayed only one five-cent piece!
Hitch Diamond, admitted into the Hen-Scratch saloon through the rear door early the next morning, was horrified to see the unconscious form of Pap Curtain lying on a pallet in the corner of the room.
“Whut’s come to pass wid Pap?” he inquired.
“Knock-out draps,” Skeeter answered disgustedly.
“When you gwine ’vide up de money?” Hitch grinned.
“Ax Sugar Sibley,” Skeeter responded. “She beat me to Pap’s pockets, an’ never lef’ me nothin’ but a buff’lo jitney.”
“Whar is dat Sugar Sibley?” Hitch asked earnestly.
“Dat’s whut yo’ job is right now--find dat nigger woman!”
“Cote her servigerous!” Skeeter informed him. “Find out whar she keeps dat money. Ax her whut’s she gwine do wit it!”
“Dat looks like a dangersome woman to me,” Hitch remarked uneasily. “Whar do she come from, Skeeter?”
“Gawd knows!” the barkeeper answered. “I’s heerd her say somepin ’bout Baton Rouge. Mebbe she stays dar. She made google eyes at me in de grand stan’ an’ I tuck up wid her.”
“I’ll go out and make inquirements an’ see whut I kin do,” Hitch said.