At last Mustard opened a drawer and drew out a small, green-plush box. He opened this box with impressive gestures, as if it was some sacred object to be handled with extreme reverence. He held the opened box under Popsy Spout’s nose.
“Dat’s de greatest treasure we’s got in dis house, Popsy,” he announced.
“Whut am dat?” Popsy asked, rallying his scattered wits.
“Dat’s de royal rabbit-foot whut fotch all de luck to de Nigger-Heel plantation,” Mustard proclaimed. “Marse Tom gimme dat foot fifteen years ago. He said dat all his luck come from dat foot. He tole me to keep it an’ it would fotch good luck to me. It shore has done it.”
Popsy gazed down into the plush box. What he saw was a rabbit-foot with a silver cap on one end, and in the center of the cap was a small ring which might be used to hang the rabbit-foot on a watch-chain if one cared to possess such a watch-charm.
A few years ago the rabbit-foot novelty was for sale in any jewelry store in the South, and cost about one dollar. Because of the negro superstition regarding the luck of the rabbit’s foot, Gaitskill had bought one for his negro overseer.
The white man in the South in his dealings with the negroes is never skeptical of their favorite superstitions. In presenting the rabbit-foot to Mustard, Gaitskill had drawn upon his imagination and told a wonderful story of the efficacy of this particular luck-charm. He had been lost in the swamp, so Gaitskill said, and this foot had shown him the way out; he had fallen into the Gulf of Mexico, and this foot had saved his life; he had been poor, and now he was rich; he had been sick, and now he was well; he had been young, and now he was old—and all because of the luck of that particular rabbit-foot. All of this emphasized in Mustard’s mind the importance which Gaitskill attached to the possession of the foot, and made him believe that the white man only parted with it because he wanted his favorite negro overseer to share some of the good fortune which had come to him.
The tale had so impressed Mustard that he regarded that plush box with its sacred foot as being the most valuable thing upon the Nigger-Heel plantation. He guarded it constantly, and would have protected it from theft or injury with his life.
“Dat is puffeckly wonderful,” Mustard declared, gazing at the treasure with reverent eyes.
“Yes, suh, dat’s whut,” Popsy agreed dreamily “Le’s hunt some place to set down.”