Of all the treasures in that room, Mustard wanted the least valuable, measured by pecuniary standards. If he had been dying of starvation, he would not have stepped within that room to lay a thievish hand upon a single object. But he had to have that rabbit-foot!
One step at a time, moving with fear and trembling, he started toward the dressing-table. Frightened, he backed out into the hall again; venturing once more, he got almost to the table, then backed again. He stepped to the far end of the hall and looked anxiously down the back steps, fearful that someone might have entered the kitchen. Then he returned to the room, ventured, backed out, moved forward, moved sidewise, hesitated, side-stepped, moved forward slowly and at last laid his black, square-shaped, labor-hardened hand upon the beautiful white scarf upon the dresser!
One of Orren Randolph Gaitskill’s favorite games was to play “Indian.” This consisted in sneaking about the house in absolute silence, dodging behind the doors, crawling under the beds and couches and tables if he heard anyone approaching and when a suitable opportunity presented itself, he would jump out upon some member of the household with a blood-curdling yell!
Org was playing Indian now for a purpose. He was by no means sure that his sister would approve his purchasing a mule for twelve dollars even with his own money, and he planned to slip up to her room and get his money out of his own purse in her dressing-table drawer without her knowledge.
He noiselessly opened the front door and entered the reception room. As he sneaked up the steps, his eyes came level with the floor of the hallway above, he saw Mustard Prophet, backing and filling, giving a ridiculous illustration of a steamboat trying to make a difficult landing.
Great is the imagination of boyhood!
Org caught this thing in an instant: Here he was, a wild and savage Indian slipping up upon a steamboat of pioneers while the boat was trying to land upon the banks of the mighty Mississippi. Mustard Prophet, backing and filling, moving up and moving back, was the steamboat!
Mustard’s negro wife went into Miss Virginia’s room every day to straighten up. Mustard helped Hopey around the house all the time. The fact that Mustard was in the house, or even in his sister’s room, made no difference to the boy. That part of it was all right.
Orren was determined that Mustard should not see him. He lay down flat upon the stair-steps and crawled with the greatest caution toward the top.
Just as the steamboat navigated the dangerous waters of Miss Gaitskill’s room and threw out a line on the dressing-table, the Indian peeped around the door-jamb!