“I ain’t got no money,” was Skeeter’s old lamentation.
Followed a long argument, ending with threats. Skeeter pleaded and prayed until he saw that the two were clearing for action, and once more he quit.
“I ain’t got no money, men,” he said desperately, throwing his arms wide in a hopeless gesture. “Jes’ look aroun’ you an’ he’p yo’selves to de Hen-Scratch.”
“I takes a fancy to dat grassyphome,” Figger replied promptly. “I always did like free music, an’ dat machine will sound real good in my cabin, wid me settin’ on one side smokin’ my pipe an’ Scootie settin’ on de yuther side, dippin’ snuff.”
“Take it!” Skeeter wailed.
“Dis here slop-machine whar you draps in a penny an’ gits out a stick of chaw-gum will go good in my resteraw,” Shin Bone remarked.
“Take it!” Skeeter lamented. “I’m a blowed-up sucker!”
After these men departed, Skeeter did not have long to wait before another caller arrived. It was Pap Curtain. He bit off the end of a cigar and gazed intently into the little barkeeper’s gloomy face.
“You owes me ten dollars, Skeeter,” he began.
“I knowed dat as soon as I seen you, Pap,” Skeeter sighed. “I admits dat I owes you. I promises to pay you as soon as I kin; but I ain’t got de money now. Ef you’ll jes’ only go away ’thout talkin’, you’ll make me happy.”