“I ain’t got to guard it from de inside, is I, Marse John?” Vinegar asked in frightened tones.
“Yes—no, I think you had better stay outside,” Flournoy replied in a meditative tone. “If you go inside, you’ll go to sleep. If you stay out, the weather is ’most too cool to sleep comfortably, and you will have intervals of wakefulness.”
“I ain’t gwine sleep wid no band of burglars trapesin’ aroun’,” Vinegar assured him stoutly. “But I’ll feel a whole heap safer on de outside.”
“I’ll leave an automatic shotgun and two pistols with you, Vinegar,” Flournoy said. “Now you sit down by that tree over there and keep watch. Hear me?”
“I prefers to stand up an’ keep watch, Marse John,” Vinegar said as he placed the two pistols in his pocket and reached out for the gun. “I never could shoot good settin’ down.”
“You can’t run good settin’ down, either, can you?” Flournoy said mockingly.
“Naw, suh, I cain’t git a real good runnin’ start,” Vinegar chuckled.
“If you see anybody, don’t you run—you shoot!” Flournoy snapped. “But don’t shoot until we all get off this lot.”
“Dis here powder an’ shot don’t cost me nothin’,” Vinegar grinned. “I’ll shore shoot—but I ain’t sayin’ dat I won’t run. My religium teaches me to exoncise discretion.”
Thereupon the crowd, with much joking and loud laughter, wandered off toward the town. They assembled in various popular resorts for liquid refreshment, and then went home for the night.