Presently, he happened upon a letter carrier. No time was lost here.

This man was paid for his work, so he forthwith became a victim of the most artful spiel, and bought the book, cash. This served to spur Sidney to renew his efforts, and he attacked those he approached more vigorously. For a time he met with no more success.

He had a lunch at a nearby restaurant, of pigs feet and sweet potato custard. After an hour, he resumed his efforts. And this began his discoveries.

Entering a yard, he came up the steps of a house from the back way. He pa.s.sed a refrigerator, and crossed the porch to knock at the door.

But--a bottle of Kentucky's John Barleycorn calmly rested upon this same refrigerator.

The door at which he knocked was opened presently, and he was invited to enter, which he did; but, when leaving by the same way, after selling another book for cash, "John" was gone.

At the next house, his customer was a tall woman of middle age and dark skinned. She drew him adroitly into a prolonged conversation, and then bought the book.

Now, Attalia is a _prohibition_ town in a southern _prohibition_ state.

Yes, it _is_--and it _isn't_. When Sidney Wyeth left that house that afternoon, he had spent part of what he received for the book, for beer and whiskey. Moreover, he was told that more than seventy-five places on Audubon Avenue were engaged likewise, and in the city all--but that is a matter for conjecture!

Obviously, _prohibition_ did not _prohibit_--but more of this later in the story.

That evening, while dining, he became acquainted with Ferguson and Thurman, who will, for a time, occupy a part in the development of this plot.

Ferguson was a preacher, but at this time--and for some time--had not preached. He admitted painting to be more profitable from a financial point of view. He complained, however, that if the "New Freedom"

continued in power much longer at Washington, and with the way things "was a-goin'," he would have to give that up and go back to pickin'

cotton.

"They ain' nothin' in preachin' no mo', that's a sho thing."

"I do not agree with you on that score," said Sidney; "for, from what I have learned already in regard to these parts, there must apparently be more money in preaching than anything else, judging from the number of preachers. And how fat they all appear!" Ferguson looked up quickly at this remark, and as quickly down at himself.

"I didn' get this flesh preachin', I a.s.suah you," he retorted, with flushed face. And after a pause, he went on with some heat:

"But that's what don' sp'iled preachin'; too many lazy n.i.g.g.a's a-graftin offa de people!" But Ferguson, as Wyeth learned later, was something of a pessimist, and predicted all kinds of deplorable things. And it was at this moment that a dejected creature made his appearance. He was bald headed, bowlegged, but, notwithstanding these possible deficiencies in his make-up, aggressive. His name was Thurman, and, said he, between bites of sweet potato pie:

"Aw, n.i.g.g.a;--youah allus a-p'dictin'--som'thin' awful!--To--heah you tell it,--since the democrats--has got int' powah--cawse a buncha crazy n.i.g.g.a's--didn' know how t' vote--at dat aih convention in Chicawgo--the world is--liable to end tomorra'!"

"It mought!--It mought;--'n' 'f it did--you be one--a d' fust--t' bu'n in h.e.l.l--too; but don't you 'dress me lak dat no mo'--in sech distressful terms! You autta be 'shamed a-yo' se'f."

And he munched pie for a time, uninterrupted by speech.

Thurman only grunted unconcernedly.

"What are the prospects of the colored people down here at the present time?" inquired Sidney, hoping to relieve the tension; but he could have rested easily on this score, for, as he learned later, they carried on that way every night. That was their diversion; but Thurman was now heard from.

"h.e.l.l!" he answered calmly.

"Good Lawd man!" cried Ferguson shocked. "What's comin' ovah you!"

"Lyin' 'n' stealin'; drinkin' cawn liquah 'n' gittin' drunk; bein' run in, locked up and sent to d' stock-ade 'n' chain-gang;" he resumed, ignoring Ferguson's shock entirely. Whereupon, Ferguson looked more distressed than ever; but only wrinkled his face in a helpless frown, and said nothing.

"Gee!" cried Sidney; "but that's an awful prospect." All this time Thurman had not smiled, but accepted everything as a matter of course, from the way he partook of sweet potato pie.

"You must not pay any attention to Mr. Thurman, Mister," said the proprietress, from across the room. She was a patient-faced, sleepy, short woman. And now, for the first time Thurman moved in his seat, and took exception to the words. Said he, somewhat loudly, and emphasizing his words with a raised hand:

"_Pay no 'tention! Pay no 'tention; wull I reckon yu'd bettah. Hump_,"

he deliberated, pausing long enough to fill his mouth with more potato: "_Pay no 'tention when yu' know yu'se'f that Jedge Ly'les 's a sentincin' mo' n.i.g.g.a's to the stock-ade 'n' chain-gang than he's eve'

done befo'. 'N' a good reason he has fo' doin' so too! Lyin', doity, stinkin', stealin' n.i.g.g.a's_," he ended disgustedly.

Presently, before anyone had time to deny his sweeping a.s.sertion, he resumed:

"Mis' M'coy, yu' know dem taters I got frum you tuther night?"

"I rember them quite well, Mr. Thurman," she replied, resignedly.

"I took them taters home 'n' put 'm in muh trunk, locked it 'n' put th'

key in muh pocket 's I allus do. Now what yu' think happened?" he halted, and surveyed the atmosphere with serene contempt. "That low down li'l' n.i.g.g.a in th' room wi' me, sneaks int' that trunk wid a duplicate key, 'n' steal eve' last one'm! _Jes' think of it!_" he emphasized, with a terrible gesture. "_Stole eve' las' one uv'm! Then talk about n.i.g.g.a's!_"

"We did'n' say nothin' 'bout n.i.g.g.a's would'n' steal, man!" complained Ferguson. "You jes' nache'lly went offa yo' noodle widout 'casion."

During all this conversation, a girl sat opposite Sidney. She was a dark, sweet-faced maiden, with an expression that was inviting. Sidney, happening to glance for the first time into her face, smiled and nodded.

She smiled back pleasantly. Ferguson and Thurman continued their harrangue.

"They are a pair," ventured Sidney, to no one in particular, but the girl smiled and inquired:

"Who are they?"

"I never saw them before," he replied.

She observed him closely, and said presently, in a very demure voice:

"Indeed. Ah--then--you don't live here?"

"No," he answered, and told her.

"O-oh, my," she echoed tremulously. "It must be fine away up in the great northwest. And--do you expect to be here--er, some time?"

"For a few months at least." Whereupon she inquired as to his business, and he likewise inquired of hers.

"I am employed in service," she said.

Now it happened that Sidney had, a few months before, met an agent in Dayton, who persisted in canva.s.sing nowhere else but among this cla.s.s.

He thought of this, and made inquiry. He was told in reply, that practically all the domestics were colored.

"I would like to see the book you sell," she said, presently. "If you could bring it to the number where I am employed, and if, after seeing it I am pleased with it, I would buy one." He could not have wished for anything better, and told her so. Elevating his eye brows in pleased delight, he said:

"I most a.s.suredly will. Only tell me how I may get there--I'll make a note of it," and he immediately did so.

"Catch a Plum Street car," she directed, "and get off at West Eleventh Street, walk a block and a half west until you see a large house numbered 40. They are Jews, so, should you lose the number, inquire for Hershes'. You may call any time after two P.M."

"I will be there tomorrow at that hour if the sun rises, and if it doesn't, I'll be there anyway," he laughed. She was amused.