“Please, boss, don’t put us togedder.”
“Naw,” Solly exclaimed earnestly. “Let me an’ Smart go upstairs. Lock us away from dem terr’ble mens!”
“Go upstairs, then,” Rogers said.
A minute later, Pap and Mustard stood together behind the bars.
“I done been in jail two times in two days,” Mustard mourned. “Sorrer’s done kotch me again.”
“Me, too,” Pap lamented. “Bad luck’s got me by de lef’ hind leg wid a downhill pull!”
“Same back at you, brudders!” a strange voice from the darkness in tragic tones. “I’s Trouble’s twin!”
Having no charge against the four negroes except disorderly conduct, the constable had merely separated the combatants, allowing each pair the freedom of the entire floor. Mustard and Pap had believed that they were alone upon this lower floor until the strange voice spoke.
Their hair stood up in superstitious fear, but the voice spoke again:
“Howdy, brudders!”