“How much do dat book cost?” Skeeter finally asked.
“Make it fo’ bits an’ I’ll buy de book,” Skeeter told him.
“I cain’t do it, Skeeter,” the other darky responded. “I needs a dollar. Excusin’ dat, a nigger whut ain’t willin’ to pay one roun’ dollar to learn how much bad luck is gwine git him deserves to hab a few mo’ bad dreams.”
“Dat’s a fack,” Skeeter sighed as he laid a silver dollar on his companion’s knee and reached out his hand for the volume.
“I hates to part wid dis book, Skeeter,” his friend said, as he reluctantly handed it over. “It shore is a wonder book. I been readin’ atter it fer mighty nigh a year. One dream I had specify dat somebody wus gwine inherit me money!”
“I might could stan’ dat kind of a dream,” Skeeter said in a solemn tone of voice. “But I’s gwine roost powerful low fer a little while till I kin change dem bad dreams I’m had to good ones.”
“Dat’s de rule,” the other darky chuckled, as he pocketed the dollar and rose to leave. “Ef dat book says, ‘Lay low,’ you done got yo’ ordahs. Ef it tells a rabbit to climb a tree, Br’e’r Rabbit had better hunt a easy one to git up on an’ straddle a limb.”
“Don’t tell nobody dat I done bought dis book, pardner,” Skeeter begged. “I wants to gib it a good try-on fust.”
“I ain’t say nothin’,” the darky grinned as he started away. “Dis dollar will gib me a trip to N’ Awleens on de steamboat, an’ I’s gwine to de landin’ right now.”
When the man had gone Skeeter laid the book aside, and busied himself in cleaning the saloon, wiping off the bar and the tables and sweeping the room. He tried to take his mind off of the book, but the interpretations of his dreams constantly recurred to his mind, and he felt a growing uneasiness.
“I wonder who dem secret enemies is,” he sighed. “Dat book oughter had tole me mo’ ’bout dat.”
He counted off upon his fingers all the negroes whom he did not like; then he counted those whom he knew did not like him; then he exclaimed:
“Dat don’t he’p me none. Ef I knows deir names, of co’se dey ain’t really secret enemies!”
He sat down at a table, lighted another cigarette, let the hot ash fall from the end and set his trousers afire. Then he dropped his smoke, put out the fire, and viewed the damage with popping eyeballs.