Vinegar turned, shut the door of exit from the building, locked it and put the key in his pocket. Then he sat down beside the table and spread his hands palm-downward on the top.
He seemed to sink into a trance, his eyes rolled back, his alligator mouth came open, his breath came and went with a loud wheeze, and at intervals a low moan issued from his throat.
The minutes passed. The men watched Vinegar with ever-increasing horror. Tucky Chew Sipe stood up and flattened himself against the wall, his knees shaking until they threatened any moment to collapse and let him down in a heap upon the floor.
Vinegar moaned. A long, deep sigh whistled through the tense silence, and the table rose two feet from the floor, teetering uncertainly. Vinegar rose to his feet, and followed the table in its peregrinations around the room, his hands spread wide and resting upon the top.
“My Gawd!” Tucky Sipe exclaimed.
Instantly the table went high into the air and shot out toward Tucky Sipe, crashing against the wall, striking Tucky a mighty blow in his lean and hungry stomach, extinguishing the lamp and hurling it to the floor where it broke into a thousand pieces!
Instantly Vinegar Atts struck a match and held it up to illumine the darkness.
He glared a moment at the horrified negroes, then walked over to where the Reverend Tucky Chew Sipe lay flat on the floor in a hysteria of fear, whooping like a siren in a fog.
“Shut up, brudder, shut up!” Vinegar howled. “You done mourned a plenty. Trust de Lawd!”
The match went out and Vinegar struck another.