“Where’s that money?” a voice demanded.
“Which?” Mustard asked.
“Where’s that money you and the white man got?”
“I ain’t got no money, white folks,” Mustard declared. “You-all ax Marse Tom! An’ Marse Tom say me not to let nobody in dis sto’—”
“Aw, come off!” another voice exclaimed. “You ain’t been sleeping through all this racket. Tell us where the bag of money is!”
“Befo’ Gawd, white folks!” Mustard replied. “I ain’t got no bag of nothin’.”
Then Mustard saw Colonel Gaitskill. “Bless gracious, Marse Tom!” he pleaded. “Come here and fotch me away from dese pesticatin’ white gemmans. Dey examinates me ’bout money like I done sold all de Nigger-Heel cotton ’thout turnin’ in de tickets—”
Colonel Gaitskill whispered to Flournoy.
“Put him in jail, John, and after the crowd disperses, we’ll slip around there and talk to him.”
Flournoy promptly acted upon this suggestion, and on the way picked up Pap Curtain, now restored to consciousness—Dr. Shuttle had had better luck with Pap—and incarcerated them both.