“The actors won’t have a thing to do with the pictures. They only play the parts which I teach them. Und’stand?”
“Ain’t you gwine gib us no koodak shotsnaps of ourse’ves?” Vinegar demanded in a disappointed tone.
“Oh, sure!” Rouke assented in an acidulous voice. “Any dang little thing to please. Do you think you could round me up a bunch of colored people who would like to act in a show?”
“Git ’em?” Vinegar bellowed. “Boss, my job is gwine be to keep ’em away! When de news gits aroun’ dat eve’y nigger gits a free picture of hisse’f an’ a chance to speak a piece on de flatform—Mister Man, I tells you honest—us better keep dis a secret! You’ll wear yo’ koodak plum’ out takin’ nigger pictures!”
“All right!” Rouke agreed. “Keep it quiet. Don’t tell anybody except those you want in the play. See? Now let’s discuss terms.”
“Cuss—which?”
“Talk money!” Rouke barked.
Vinegar’s face fell.
“I thought de pictures wus free!” he protested.
“Oh, I don’t mean that!” Rouke grated through his teeth. “Listen! I want to know how much you will charge me to get the actors for the play and help me stage it. Get that?”