The wag halted at the rear door of the Jim Crow section to await results. Presently a fly lit on the nose of the slumbering one, and he sucked his tongue back inside of his mouth. Instantly he was wide awake. He spat violently, then arose with a look of deep concern on his face and headed for the back platform.
At the door he encountered the traveling man. “Mister,” he demanded, anxiously, “does you know ef dey’s a doctor on dis yere train?”
“Who needs a doctor?” countered the white man.
“I does, tha’s who.”
“Are you sick?”
“I shore is. An’ whut’s more I knows whut ails me, an’ I knows I needs to git to a doctor right away.”
“Well, what does ail you?”
“Boss, my gall’s busted!”
§ 56 In Fact, a Positive Fad
Not long ago a very wise literary critic suggested in my presence the attractiveness of the idea of compiling a funny book about hangings. He pointed out that there were scores of yarns, all dealing more or less humorously with the unhumorous subject of hangings, legal and otherwise. He thought that a suitable beginning for the volume might be found in the ancient anecdote of the shipwrecked mariner who, after drifting for days on an improvised raft, was carried by a friendly current within sight of a strange land. As he drew nearer he saw some men on the shore erecting a gallows, and, falling upon his knees, cried out: “Thank Heaven, I have reached a Christian country!”