For more than an hour Shin hardly took the glasses off the man’s face. For a while he had the idea that he had seen the visitor somewhere before, but this impression gradually vanished.
He decided that the stranger was a city negro, because of his easy manners. His quick-moving lips showed that he spoke readily, and he carried himself in a way that suggested a soldier. He had typical Ethiopian features, and was what the negroes call “brown-skin.”
“Dat is one of dese perch-mouthed city niggers wid big ideas an’ small judgment,” Shin grumbled as he climbed down from the tree. “I think I’m done watchin’ him to-day. I’ll climb up here an’ hab a little session wid dat nigger to-morrer.”
When he got back to his place of business he found Whiffle just as she had been for several days, bubbling over with excitement and laughter, her nerves atingle with some great secret.
“Whut ails you, Whiffle?” he growled. “You ack like you done seen about seben angels or had about ’leven drams. I ain’t had nothin’ to perk me up like you is.”
“I don’t tell eve’ything I knows, Shinny,” she laughed, all unconscious of the clouds of jealousy which had gathered over him like a storm above a mountain peak. “A nigger husbunt hadn’t oughter know too much.”
“Why oughtn’t dey know too much?” Shin snapped.
“Because dey’s apt to lead deir wives a dance,” Whiffle snickered.
“Huh!” Shin grunted. “I’s like a jackass—I ain’t got no year fer music an’ no foot fer dancin’!”
Then he went and loaded his pistol and slipped it into the pocket of his coat.
When Shin described to Skeeter Butts the strange man he had seen at the kitchen door, Skeeter evinced great surprise.
“Dat’s de picture of de man whut borrered some money from me an’ gib me dem spy-glasses fer s’curity!” Skeeter exclaimed. “You is spyin’ on dat man wid his own spy-glasses.”
“Ef you’ll borrer dat nigger’s pistol, I’ll shoot him wid his own gun,” Shin said.
“You git dat shootin’ notion off’n yo’ mind!” Skeeter snapped. “Dar is bigger fish in de bayou dan you ever fried in yo’ resteraw, an’ dar is better nigger women in de worl’ dan dat blockhead Whiffle gal you’s got in yo’ kitchen.”
“She suits me, an’ ef anybody tries to git her dar’s a right smart chance fer fun’rals!”