“How close?” Skeeter grinned.
“Close enough to shoot at dat nigger six times; an’ ef I has bad luck an’ misses wid all dem shots, I’s gwine throw brickbats at him half an hour,” Shin told his counselor.
“All you got to do is to borrer dem glasses an’ keep yo’ eye on de kitchen.”
“Whar would be a good place to hide while I watches?”
In his mind, Skeeter took a survey of all the surrounding country before he offered a suggestion. Finally he pointed to a tree half-way across the town, on a little hill, and said:
“Ef you climb up in dat tree an’ hide yo’se’f in de leaves, I figgers dat you will hab a straight line to look right at yo’ kitchen door. Ef I wus you, I’d go out to dat tree right now an’ take a look wid dese glasses.”
“I’ll shore try dat on!” Shin exclaimed. “Does dese here glasses b’long to you?”
“Naw. Dey ain’t really mine, but I’ll lend you de loant of ’em,” Skeeter said. “A feller come to dis saloon an’ borrered some money, an’ lef’ dese here spy-glasses fer s’curity. So, of co’se, dey is mine ontil he fetches back de money whut he borrered.”
III
Shin went out to the tree that Skeeter had indicated, seated himself among the branches, and directed his vision to the kitchen door of his restaurant. So powerful were the lenses that it seemed to him that the door was only ten feet away.