When I realized I was up against it good and plenty I rested on my oars, awhile, wondering how I would play even. While I was thinking it over and wondering if I would be obliged to acknowledge myself beaten, my waiter, thinking I was through, came to me and asked if I was done. At the same time another waiter came on the scene holding a huge tray high over his head. The tray was filled to the guards with everything from soup to pie. An idea struck me, but I had to be quick.
I dropped my fork, my waiter stooped to pick it up, and, as he was stooping, I kicked my chair from under me and, throwing myself on all fours in front of the fast approaching waiter with the tray, causing him to trip and bring the tray and its contents fair on top of my waiter’s back and head.
I escaped without a spatter, the incoming waiter got but little, but the poor devil of a nig that was supposed to wait on me got a good bit more than I expected, for he was not only drenched with the soup, gravy, chicken potpie, custard pie, and a few other edibles, but a broken piece of crockery or glass took him in the back of the head and cut a good-sized gash. Either this or his striking the floor with his head put him out of business, for he never moved a muscle. The head waiter and the assistant head waiter came rushing up, and there was a general stampede of guests to see what was the matter. I was the first to demand to know how it all happened.
The proprietor came in and gave orders for the removal of the debris, and, incidentally, of the waiter also. He was picked up and carried out, and so were the dishes.
After the nigger had been carried out, there was a good deal of talk about how it happened. They found the nig who had the tray and demanded of him what part he had in it. He was just about to open his mouth when I stepped in front of him, clenched my fist and looked him square in the eye.
“Fo’ de Lawd, I don’ know how it all did come about. I jes’ tripped on sumthin’ and dar I was.”
With this explanation Mr. Nig slid out of the way. The next time I came in the dining-room I was fitted out with an umbrella handle. It was one of the largest ones I ever saw and shaped not unlike a revolver handle. This I had in my hip pocket. I threw my coat tails to one side and exposed for a moment the top of the handle to the gaze of the head waiter. After I was sure he had seen it I walked up to him and said:
“Look here, Sam, you saw my gun, but you only saw one of the pair. They are forty-fours and will carry a bullet through a six-inch plank. Now, I don’t propose to be held up by you damned rascals any more. What I want of you is to put me to the same table each time, give me as good a waiter as you have in the house, and see that I am waited on in first-class shape. If you do this, all right; if not, there will be a pile of dead niggers here that will bring on international complications.”
“I don’ know what yo’ mean, sar.”
My hand went to my hip pocket, but before I had time to draw, the moke threw up his hands and cried out: