(LITTLE BOY at edge of stage thumbs his nose at the marshall.)
(LUM lumbers after the small boy. Both exit.)
HAMBO.
(To CLARK who has been thinking all this while what move to make) You ain’t got but one move … go ahead on and make it. What’s de matter, Mayor?
CLARK.
(Moving his checker) Aw, here.
HAMBO.
(Triumphant) Now! Look at him, boys. I’m gonna laugh in notes. (Laughing to the scale and jumping a checker each time) Do, sol, fa, me, lo … one! (Jumping another checker) La, sol, fa, me, do … two! (Another jump.) Do, sol, re, me, lo … three! (Jumping a third.) Lo, sol, fa, me, re … four! (The crowd begins to roar with laughter. LUM BOGER returns, looking on. Children come drifting back again playing chick-me-chick-me-cranie crow.)
VOICE.
Oh, ha! Done got the ol’ tush hog.
ANOTHER VOICE.
Thought you couldn’t be beat, Brother Mayor?
CLARK.
(Peeved, gets up and goes into the store mumbling) Oh, I coulda beat you if I didn’t have this store on my mind. Saturday afternoon and I got work to do. Lum, ain’t I told you to keep them kids from playin’ right in front of this store?
(LUM makes a pass at the nearest half-grown boy. The kids dart around him teasingly.)
ANOTHER VOICE.
Eh, heh…. Hambo done run him on his store … done run the ol’ coon in his hole.