The train stopped at Tonieville and Pap stuck his head far out of the window to see who he would know at the station.
He felt a sharp tap on his shoulder, pulled his head in, and looked behind him.
A tall white man with tobacco-stained whiskers and a deputy-sheriff’s badge pinned to a strap of his suspenders spoke:
“Climb off peaceable, Pap Curtain! Colonel Tom Gaitskill wants you back at Tickfall on the next train!”
“Naw, suh, white folks,” Pap protested earnestly, his intense fright making him stammer. “Marse Tom done run me outen Tickfall dis very mawnin’. He tole me ef I didn’t leave town he would bust my haid open. You done cotch de wrong coon!”
“Git off!” the deputy commanded shortly, waving his stick toward the door.
The train went on and left Pap Curtain at the station in the care of the constable.
“You is shore made a miscue dis time, Mr. Sheriff,” Pap declared. “Marse Tom is always b’lieved in me an’ trusted me—Gawd bless his heart! You cain’t make Marse Tom hear nothin’ bad ’bout me—naw, suh, you couldn’t bawl it inter his year wid one of dese here Gabriel trumpets. I’s a good nigger—a powerful good nigger!”
The grinning constable reached out with the end of his stick and struck it sharply against one of Pap’s bulging pockets. There was a pleasant clink of much silver in response.
“Colonel Gaitskill telephoned that your pockets were full of money,” the constable told him. “I’ll let you pack it until we git back to Tickfall—then you can tell your Marse Tom where you happened to get it all.”