“Well?”
“That tree was pisened! It died o’ snakebite—its system chock full o’ pisen. I cut it down and took it home, where I planted it under the shed.”
“And your portent?”
“I’m comin’ to that, if you’ll give me time. That night I couldn’t sleep for a procession of ants. They came out of a hole in the floor, crept over my bed—which you may know is on the floor for convenience—and marched out thro’ the crack under the door. All the ants in the country were there—red ants, black ants, working ants, soldier ants, and the soldier ants nipped me whenever I moved. In the morning, when they had passed away, I went outside, and in the shed there was thousands an’ thousands o’ dead ants, not to speak o’ flies.”
“All dead?”
“They had been nipping that pisened pole, and those that didn’t bite got the news and moved off for other scenes. I tell you, you may speak o’ telegraph wires, but lor’ bless you, news travels faster among the creatures. Why I’ve knowed—”
“Yes; but you’ve not told me about your discovery.”
“Well, now, the limitations of your knowledge is great. I’ve told you enough to put two and two together. If not, I’ll just make the plain plainer. Seeing what the tree had done, I though o’ the bark an’ the leaves left there behind in the kloof, and went for ’em. It was jus’ as I thought. They was deadly pisen, and when I laid some leaves about the house they killed all the flies, and a piece o’ bark laid in a rat-hole brought all the rats out corpses.
“Yes sir, that’s ole Abe Pike’s Vermin Destroyer, and if you’re setting pills for jackals, why, don’t you forget to come to my shop.”
“Are you opening a shop?”