“Hop out of the door,” Hi said. He held the door so that the frog might hop. He was frightened not only of the madman, but of his noise, which might bring the guards.
“Where’s the door?” the man asked.
“Here.”
“Where’s here?” the man asked. “How am I to know where here is?”
“Are you blind?” Hi asked. “I didn’t know you were blind.”
“I been blind since I was a poor little orphan child,” the man said. “I only smell things. There’s a smell of roses here, or maybe it’s lavender. You guide me to the door, my dear young Bible friend. Just reach me your hand and the blessings of the poor blind man will follow you. Oh, Heaven bless you, my sweet young gentleman angel, Heaven will bless you for this.”
Hi had taken the man by the left arm, while he kept the door open with his body. The man came unsteadily through the opening into the yard.
“There,” he said, “there.” He drew a deep breath, suddenly wheeled upon Hi, stabbed at him with his knife, and screamed:
“And now I’ll cut your guts out, like I said.”
Hi had half expected something of the kind. By a twist of his body he shook himself clear, so that the door, at once swinging-to, struck Henery Peach Kezia and made him miss his stab.