A white man jostled against Dr. Sentelle.
The venerable preacher thrust his hand into the tail-pocket of his clergyman’s coat and found himself in possession of a heavy pistol. Colonel Gaitskill backed quietly into the arms of a man standing behind him and found both side pockets of his coat weighted down with weapons.
Then Gaitskill stepped forward again and became the spokesman, his voice cracking like a bull-whip in the hands of a cowboy:
“Us comed to town to git away from de canned bull, Marse Tom,” Mustard Prophet informed him.
There was a barely audible “Ah!” from the throats of the white men, who had held their breath in intense desire to catch Mustard’s answer. The anxiety of the white men was instantly relieved. They did not understand, but if that crowd of men, women, and children were scared and running away from something, that put a much better light upon the matter.
“To get away from--_what_?” Gaitskill snapped.
“Dunno, suh,” Mustard replied, scratching his head. “I’s done heerd tell dat she eats ’em alive.”
“Dey calls her de canned bull,” Mustard informed him in uncertain tones.
“I presume he means _cannibal_,” Dr. Sentelle suggested with a loud chuckle.
“Yes, suh,” Mustard acquiesced. “Dat whut I jes’ said.”
“What do you know about a _cannibal_?” Gaitskill growled.
“Hopey, de woman whut cooks fer you, sont me word, an’ old Isaiah an’ Little Bit fotch me de pertick’lers,” Mustard told him. “Ole Isaiah tole me dat he done saw dat wild woman fight a bear an’ she kilt it dead. He specify dat she gib dat bear de all-under holt an’ de fust two bites!”
“Yes, suh. But I knowed you didn’t want me to happen to no harm, so I hauled off an’ come to town.”
“What did you bring all these other niggers for?” Gaitskill asked.
“I didn’t fotch ’em wid me, Marse Tom,” Mustard declared. “I tried to git ’em to stay back, but sompein itched ’em right sudden to trabbel, an’ here dey all am.”
There was a loud burst of laughter from the white men, Gaitskill found his coat-pockets relieved of their heavy guns, Dr. Sentelle lost the six-shooter out of the tail of his Prince Albert coat, and the business men went haw-hawing to their stores, leaving Colonel Gaitskill and Dr. Sentelle to face the rabble of panic-stricken negroes.