“Whut’s dat?” Sugar demanded sharply. “You mean to signify dat you ain’t fotch but one hundred dollars out here wid you to entertain a cullud lady?”
“Dat’s right,” Skeeter declared, “an’ I done loss it all but dis here tenner.”
“You’s gwine lose a lady frien’, nigger,” Sugar remarked in a disgusted tone. “Nothin’ don’t talk aroun’ me but dollars.”
“My talkin’ dollars is done expe’unce a vocal breakdown,” Skeeter answered shamefacedly.
A tall, yellow negro with a furtive manner, a baboon face, eyes too close together, and lips which carried an habitual sneer, passed them, walked down to the rail, and stopped to gaze up and down the track.
“Does you know dat man?” Sugar Sibley asked.
“Dat’s Pap Curtain,” Skeeter informed her. “He’s de meanes’ slick-head nigger in Tickfall.”
Then Skeeter left her, walked down to Pap, and said:
“Shore!” Pap informed him, patting four capacious pockets bulging with silver coins.
“Cain’t you loant me a few loose change?” Skeeter pleaded.
“Naw, son,” Pap replied positively. “Whenever I loants money to a frien’ I axes dat money an’ dat frien’ good-by. I ain’t never gwine see ary one no mo’.”
“I sho’ am on de list fer he’p,” Skeeter mourned. “I’s armin’ a she-queen aroun’ an’ she done et up all my money an’ bawlin’ fer mo’ an’ I’s skeart she’ll pass me down because I’s busted.”
“Dat’s too bad,” Pap sympathized. “You had oughter picked de winners.”
“Is you winned all dat money wid bets?” Skeeter asked eagerly.
“Naw, suh!” Pap made emphatic answer. “I don’t bet on nothin’. I sells tips! I charges one half dollar fer eve’y tip per each.”
Skeeter produced his last bill and handed it to Pap.
“Give me nine dollars and fifty cents change. Pap,” he said eagerly, “an’ a tip on de winner of de nex’ race.”
Pap handed back the change, caught Skeeter by the arm, led him to one side out of ear-shot of all other negroes, and whispered impressively:
“Swa’r befo’ Gawd dat you won’t tell nobody whar you got dis tip!”
Pap bent down, cupped both hands around Skeeter’s ear like a trumpet, and whispered hoarsely:
Skeeter’s little legs bounced him down the steps of the grand stand and for the next ten minutes he circulated assiduously among the negroes placing his private bets.
When Skeeter had gone Pap Curtain turned his back to the track and gazed upward in worshipful adoration of Sugar Sibley as if she were the saint of his deepest devotion. The gaudy princess opened wide her large eyes, then squinted them, then slowly closed one eye and smiled.