“I resigns in yo’ favor, elder,” the owner grinned. “Ef dis here beast wus to butt me, he’d jolt all my kinnery plum’ back to Afriky.”
There was a period of silent and fruitless meditation. Then, sorrowfully, Hitch Diamond reached to his hip-pocket and brought forth his purple socks with the yellow stripes—all, except his trousers, that remained of his former glory.
“Whut’s yo’ name?” Hitch asked.
“Dey calls me Dude Blackum because I got a gold tooth,” the other informed him.
“Whut is yo’ wife called?” Hitch asked next.
“Dainty.”
“I wants to make a little trade, Dude,” Hitch remarked, after he had told his own name. “Dese here socks costed me two dollars. My head ain’t thinkin’ right to-day. You is a heavy thinker. Ef you kin think up a sketch of how I kin git a dram right now, I’ll bestow dese here socks on you.”
“De trade is did!” Dude grinned, showing his gold tooth. “Lemme think!”
“Bawl out, nigger!” Hitch grumbled after a little wait. “Don’t keep me waitin’ here in expense no longer.”
“I wus studyin’ ’bout dis,” Dude said. “I’s got a little touch of lumbago in my legs. An’ mebbe, ef dat bull would jes’ butt me real easy like, an’ I’d kinder drap off in dat bayou an’ git wet, an’ den walk back home in drippy clothes wid dis mis’ry gnawin’ at my legs——”