“All right,” the sheriff said grimly. “Trot right down the center of this road and go back to the jail you got out of.”
VII
“GON’ER GIT THEM NIGGERS!”
Just at noon the three negroes stumbled through the door of the jail, and like men walking in their sleep, obeyed the command of the sheriff and climbed the steps to the second story. There they fell to the floor and sank into unconsciousness.
The sheriff closed the jail door and sat down on the steps in front, where he gave himself up to most serious thought. Almost an hour later he arose, reëntered the jail, and returning to his three prisoners picked out Mobile Boone and kicked him into wakefulness.
“Get up, Mobile,” he commanded. “Follow me downstairs.”
Dumbly, the negro obeyed. On the ground floor the sheriff stopped and spoke:
“Mobile, what are you in here for?”
“I got drunk in de Chicken-Wing an’ tried to claw a nigger’s nose off.”
“Were you arrested with those other two negroes?”
“Naw, suh. Dey fetch me to de calaboose on Sunday mawnin’ an’ dem two coons come in late Sunday night. I never seed ary one of ’em befo’.”