“Now, honey,” Vinegar said to the frightened Sipe, “ef you wants dis church, you kin hab it—but my advices to you is to hunt somewhar fer to git, an’ trabbel out to’des dat place right now!”
“Yes, suh,” Tucky Chew Sipe said in a voice which strangled in his throat. “I takes yo’ advices. I’s like dat ole Bill Shazzer in de Bible—I done observe de handwrite on de wall!”
The burning match scorched Vinegar’s fingers and he tossed it aside, sucking the blister as he unlocked and opened the door. Then he spoke in the darkness:
“De log-train passes through Tickfall in about ten minutes, brudder. Skeeter Butts will go to de deppo wid you an’ speed you on yo’ way. You won’t make me mad ef you never comes back!”
One hour later Vinegar Atts and Skeeter Butts met in the rear room of the Hen-Scratch saloon.
“De revun made his git-off, Elder,” Skeeter grinned. “He specify dat he reternally regretted dat he wouldn’t git no more free vittles from de dearly beloved sisteren, but he ’peared powerful anxious to trabel jes’ de same.”
“Well, I reckin ef dar ain’t no likely cand’date fer my preachin’ job, de cormittee will let me hold on to it, won’t dey?” Vinegar asked.
“Suttinly,” Skeeter grinned. “Dey say you is done bewitched dat church an’ dey is gwine let you keep it till you die.”
“Dat’s de bes’ news I’s heerd sence de las’ pay day,” Vinegar exulted. “I shore do like to bawl de message in dat communion. It he’ps me git a lot of wind offen my breast.”