II.
The Big Four of Tickfall sat around a much bewhittled pine table in the Hen-Scratch saloon. The room was hazy with their tobacco smoke. Conversation languished. The session was about to adjourn until to-morrow at the same hour. Figger Bush laid his cigarette upon the edge of the table, lifted his head like a dog baying the moon, and chanted:
"O you muss be a lover of de landlady's daughter
Or you cain't git a secont piece of pie!"
Before the other could catch the tune, the green-baize doors of the saloon were thrown open and a white man entered. Every negro looked up into that granite face with its deep-set eyes, iron jaw, and rugged lines of strength and purpose, and smiled a joyful welcome:
"Mawnin', Marse John. 'Tain't no use to come sheriffin' down dis way. No niggers ain't done nothin'."
"I am hunting for a Methodist clergyman of color," Flournoy grinned.
"Boss," Vinegar Atts chuckled as he rose to his feet, "I's de blackest an' best nigger preacher whut is, an' I b'lieves in de Mefdis doctrine of fallin' from grace an' grease. Ef you misdoubts my words, ax my wife. Dat ole woman admits dat fack herse'f."
"I want you to perform a wedding ceremony at the Shoofly Church to-night at seven o'clock," the sheriff announced.
Instantly the Rev. Vinegar Atts thrust both hands into the pockets of his trousers and brought his hands out, turning out the pockets and showing them empty.
"Dar now, Figger Bush!" Vinegar bellowed. "I tole you dat de good Lawd would pervide a way fer me to pay fer dem near-booze grape-juices I been guzzlin' in yo' sinful saloom! Five dollars will sottle wid you an' leave a few change over fer seegaws."
"Who's cormittin' mattermony, Marse John?" Mustard Prophet wanted to know. "Is it one of dese here shotgun weddin's?"
"Plaster Sickety wishes to wed Pearline Flunder."
"I knows 'em," Hitch Diamond rumbled from his big chest. "De good Lawd will shore got to pervide fer dem coons like He do fer Vinegar Atts—nary one is got git-up enough to make a livin'."
"Those young colored honey-birds are under my special care and protection," Flournoy announced, smiling. "I intend to house them and take care of them and get them work. They are an experiment."
"De trouble wid experiments is dis, Marse John," Mustard chuckled, "sometimes dey bust in yo' face."
"My plan is this," Flournoy told them. "I am going to tie those two negroes together with a ten-foot chain and they are to live in peace and amity for three days."
"Lawdymussy, Marse John!" the Rev. Vinegar Atts bellowed. "Did you ever tie two cats to each yuther an' hang 'em over de limb of a tree?"
"Yes."
"Does you recommember how quick dem cats got tired of each yuther's sawsiety an' fell out wid theirselves?"
"Certainly."
Vinegar jerked a yellow bandana handkerchief from the tail of his coat and mopped the top of his bald head.
"You mought care fer dem niggers ef you ties em togedder, Marse John. But you ain't gwine be able to pertection 'em—not from each yuther," Vinegar announced as he slapped at his face with his kerchief. "I wouldn't be tied to my nigger wife wid a telephone-wire long enough to conversation de man in de moon. Naw, suh! Dat ole gal would be yankin' on dat line a catfish all de time. Whoosh!"
"I agrees wid dem religium sentiments," Hitch Diamond rumbled. "Now you example Goldie, my own wife. Dat little yeller gal's maw is a lunatic, an' Goldie ain't no lunatic, but she ain't got her right mind. I wouldn't mind bein' a Dandylion in de lion's den, like de Bible tells about—dat would gib me a chance to fight fer my gizzard. But chained up to Goldie—"
Hitch broke off, shook his head in earnest negation, rubbed one giant hand around his iron-thewed wrist as if he could feel the holy bonds of matrimony and gave utterance to one expressive word: "Gawd!"
"Hol' on, niggers!" Figger Bush exclaimed. "I don't foller you-alls in dem sentiments. Now I been married to Scootie gwine on two year an' I ain't never got too much of dat gal yit. I cherishes de opinion dat Marse John could tie our heads togedder an' I wouldn't complain none."
"I sides wid Figger Bush," Mustard Prophet grinned. "I been livin' off an' on wid Hopey fer twenty year, an' dat gal is busted stovewood over my head off an' on plenty of times, but I don't bear her no grouch. She kin always make peace by givin' me some hot biskits an' a few sirup."
"You four niggers talk too much," Flournoy grinned. "I want you to get busy and decorate that Shoofly Church and pull the biggest Tickfall church wedding ever seen in the social sets of our colored circles. I'll pay for everything."
"Us fo' niggers will git our wifes an' pull some kind of nice stunt ourselfs, too, Marse John," Vinegar howled. "We'll fix up a good send-off fer 'em."
At seven o'clock that evening the Flournoy automobile conveyed the happy pair to the Shoofly Church. The Rev. Vinegar Atts proceeded with the ceremony until the bride sported a new ring and the two were pronounced man and wife with the solemn admonition:
"Whom God hath joined together, let not man put asunder!"
Thereupon Sheriff Flournoy stepped forward and with the ease of long practice slipped a manacle upon the right wrist of the bride and another upon the left wrist of the groom and snapped the handcuffs shut.
Figger Bush stooped and lifted a long bottle from a bucket of ice. There was a loud pop, the cork struck against the ceiling, ricochetted around the walls of the room and caused a commotion by falling on Vinegar's bald head. Figger advanced with a tray containing three glasses and the sheriff toasted the bride and groom.
The ten-foot chain rattled as the bride raised her manacled hand to drink.
When they marched out of the church the entire congregation formed a procession and accompanied them to their cabin on the Coolie Bayou. They noticed that Plaster Sickety picked up the chain and wrapped a turn around his bride's neck and one about his own, thus shortening the bond and bringing them close together. They clamped their arms around each other's waists, and plodded solemnly through the deep dust of the crooked highway.
"Dat nigger cain't park his wife like a new automobile an' walk off an' leave her," Vinegar chuckled.
"He ain't actin' anxious to git away—now," Hitch rumbled pessimistically.
"Not yit, but soon," Vinegar agreed.
Approaching the cabin, Plaster Sickety's voice broke into exultant song, and through the negro's wonderful gift of improvisation, he produced this neat bit:
"Dar's a Pearline pearl of price untold,
An' dat Pearline pearl cain't be bought wid gold;
An' dat Pearline pearl am good to see,
Fer dat Pearline pearl b'longs to me!"
"Listen to dat fool!" Hitch Diamond chuckled. "He's singin' like a little black angel whut had swiped de pearliest pearl offen de pearly gates!"
The bride and groom entered their cabin and softly closed the door.
Good night!