“Dis here is some kind of joke,” Skeeter muttered to himself as he dropped from the limb. “I’ll sneak in de kitchen an’ come through de house an’ supprise ’em.”
Slipping to the rear, he emitted a low whistle and located Hitch Diamond by the meat-house, which gave him the courage to open the door of the dark kitchen and enter.
There was not a negro in this rescue-party who was not thoroughly familiar with the Gaitskill home. In the years past they had served in that house in every capacity, and knew every room and closet, and the contents of each. There were a dozen other homes in Tickfall with which they were equally familiar, for the good house servant is a privileged character in the house, and his presence in the home is coveted by every housekeeper.
So it was no trouble for Skeeter to find his way in the dark to the lighted drawing-room.
A bellow of fright from Hopey and a squeal of terror from Dazzle greeted him as he stepped from behind a door with a pistol in his hand.
“Whut you got to say now, Hopey?” Dazzle exclaimed, when she recovered from her fright. “I tole you Skeeter wus a brave nigger——”
There was a loud clatter at the front door, and Pap Curtain’s voice spoke:
“Open dis door, Skeeter! Hurry!”
Skeeter sprang to the door and threw it open. Little Bit, panting, dripping with perspiration, and almost exhausted, was pushed into the room by Pap Curtain, who had to support him to prevent his falling to the floor. In the blaze of light which came through the open door, Figger and Mustard and Hitch got the courage to come out from their hiding-places and listen.
“Bad luck, Skeeter!” Little Bit panted. “I ain’t know whut kind of nigger bizziness dis is, but you-alls is got yo’selfs in a jam.”