“Whut good will dat do me?” Hitch inquired.
“It’ll fix you so trouble won’t trouble you no more,” Checkerboard grinned, patting Hitch on his powerful back. “Atter you takes yo’ seat you won’t need no money—de Nights of Darkness lodge will bury yo’ remainders free fer nothin’ an’ sot you up a real nice tombstone.”
“I got plenty white folks in my own home town,” Hitch continued, paying no attention to his companion’s foolishness. “I mought could git some he’p mebbe ef I had somewhar to wait at ontil dey sont me de money.”
The checkerboard negro looked Hitch over; then his eyes narrowed and he smiled.
“As a lodge brudder in good standin’, I could lead you to my own house an’ keep you a little while,” Checkerboard remarked. “Whar is yo’ lodge pin?”
Hitch glanced down at the lapel of his coat.
“My gosh!” he mourned. “I done loss my money an’ my lodge breastpin too. Dat breastpin wus jes’ perzackly like de one you is got on an’ wus gib me by Skeeter Butts.”
“Suttinly,” Checkerboard laughed. “Dey is all made alike an’ look jes’ de same. Mebbe de feller whut touched yo’ wad frisked yo’ pin, too.”
“Dat’s whut happened,” Hitch sighed. “But it don’t he’p me none to know dat news.”
“You’se too blame young to be trabbelin’ alone,” Checkerboard snickered. “You needs a fust-rate gardeen. Foller atter me!”