Further E. K. Means / Is This a Title? It Is Not. It Is the Name of a Writer of Negro Stories, Who Has Made Himself So Completely the Writer of Negro Stories That This Third Book, Like the First and Second, Needs No Title

by E. K. Means

“Skeeter, I come to git my money back,” he said. “I done decided not to buy no race-hoss.”

“You cain’t git yo’ money back,” Skeeter said. “De white man took all our dollars wid him, an’ now our hoss done eloped away.”

“I don’t know no white man,” Conko Mukes said belligerently. “I never seen no white man. I ain’t saw nobody but you, didn’t make no trade wid nobody but you, an’ I got a mighty shawt look at dat hoss whut I paid my good ten dollars fer. Now I’s lookin’ to you!”

“I got a mighty little look, too,” Skeeter said placatingly. “I ain’t got a real good recollection of whut dat hoss looked like. I ain’t real shore I’d know him in de road ef he didn’t limp none.”

“I ain’t buyin’ no absent hoss,” Conko said. “I want my money back!”

“But de white man is got our money,” Skeeter explained again. “You won’t git yo’ money onless you finds de white man; an’ he’ll be harder to find dan de hoss. You had a look at de hoss, but you never saw de white man whut sold it.”

“I ain’t seem’ nobody but you,” Conko Mukes remarked in a hard tone. “I gived you my money an’ you tuck it, an’ you is de mighty nigh white man whut is got to give it back!”

“I ain’t got no money!” Skeeter Butts wailed.

“Git it!” Conko Mukes barked.

With this command he drew a large pistol from a holster under his left arm and laid it on the table with the business end pointing toward Skeeter Butts.