“Get up, Mustard,” Gaitskill commanded, striking him with his foot. “This is the man who blew open the safe.”
The big-hearted, giant-bodied sheriff gazed upon the criminal, then stepped over and felt the emaciated hands and arms.
“He was as frail as a girl, Tom,” he said, with a note of pity in his voice. “But he fought like a snake. I simply had to crush him.”
“Oh, lawdymussy, take me away from dis here terr’ble place!” Mustard bawled, kneeling before the broken office safe as before an altar.
Handing the negro his cornet, Gaitskill made him rise, and followed him to the door, where Pap Curtain stood pop-eyed and trembling.
“Marse Tom,” Mustard quavered, “I’s gwine leave dis land of sorrer. I ain’t never comin’ back no mo’ escusin’ you come atter me an’ fotch me back.”
“Me, too!” Pap Curtain piped.
The two white men watched the progress of the two negroes as they hastened down the street.
“Mustard didn’t have a thing to do with it,” Flournoy said.
Gaitskill nodded his assent.