J. Poindexter, Colored

"I'll swear I don't get you," he says. But he's took heed and now his notes is low and more worried-like. "I'm asked to come up here on a matter of business, as I suppose. I gather from your hints over the telephone you think you've found out something which I might be willing to give money for, as an exclusive advance tip. So far, so good; I'm always open to reason. Then I get here and you behave as mysteriously as a ghost and go sh-h-hing about as though somebody was dead on the premises. What's the – "

"Oh, Mr. Raynor," I says, "don't speak of nobody bein' daid on these premises. It sounds too much lak a dreadin' perdiction. Mr. Raynor," I says, "fur the sakes of all, please lis'sen an' lemme say my say whilst they's yit time!"

"All right," he says; "go ahead. I won't interrupt again, although I still don't see why you should take the matter so seriously." But in spite of the fact that when he says this he's grinning at me I judges that by now the uneasiness has started crawling up his legs. It's one of them sickly, pestered grins.

"Well, suh," I says, "all last night an' th'ough the early parts of this mawnin' Mr. Dallas is been carryin' on lak he was mouty nigh distracted. Frum words w'ich he lets fall, partly to me an' partly w'en he's tawkin' to hisse'f, I meks out 'at the trouble is on 'count of bus'ness dealin's 'twixt you an' him, an' also 'at he's harborin' a 'special pet gredge ag'in you on 'count of somethin' or other. Fur a spell he tawked right smart 'bout a compermise settlemint an' 'at wuz whut I wanted to tell you pussonally in privit – 'at the idee of a compermise settlemint wuz floatin' in his mind. He didn't sleep none las' night but he walked the floor stiddy till pas' daylight; an' all th'ough these mawnin' hours, seemed lak to me, he's been gittin' mo' an' mo' antagonized ez the time went by. Frum the symptoms I should a-knowed whut wuz brewin'. But I reckin I must a-been blinded, whut wid things bein' so out of kelter round the 'partmint. W'en he bidden me fur to call you up an' invite yore presence yere right away I still didn't 'spicion the true facts. But right after I'd got th'ough telephonin' down to the office I went back to his room to say you'd be cumin' shortly an' ez I stepped in the do' an' seen him fumblin' in 'at dressin'-table drawer an' seen the rampagious look w'ich wuz on his face – oh, Mr. Raynor, suh, right 'en wuz w'en my heart upset itse'f insides my chist!

"'Cause I done seen 'at look on his face befo' now; I seen it fo' yeahs ago, the time w'en 'at electioneerin' fuss of his wid the late Mr. Dave Townsend come up. At leas' once't I seen it on his paw's face an' I seen it mo' times 'en once't on the face of his uncle, Mr. Z. T. Pulliam, w'ich they called him Hell-Roarin' Zack fur short. It runs in the blood an' it ripens in the breedin' – 'at look do. You don't never want to tamper wid a Pulliam – they comes untamped too easy! They goes 'long jest ez peaceable an' quiet ez a onborn lamb up to a suttin p'int an' 'en 'at look comes over 'em an' the by-standers starts removin' theyselves to a place of safety. They calls it the deadly sign of the Pulliam fambly down our way 'cause they knows whut it means – they's seen it loomin' th'ough the pistol-smoke too of'en. An' so – "

"What sort of a bluff is this you're trying to hand me?" he says. But his face all of a sudden has turned just the color of chalk and his voice is quivering so the words comes forth from between his lips all sort of broken up. The man's looks don't match his language. "Are you trying to tell me there's gun-play threatening around here? Well, that's not done any more!"

"You's right!" I says. "Wid the Pulliamses, after the fust shot, it ain't necessary fur it to be done any mo' – jest once't is ample! They lets go frum the hip an' they don't rarely nor never miss – I reckin it comes natchel to 'em. Oh, Mr. Raynor, I knows whut the danger is better'n you possibly kin! An' oh, Mr. Raynor, I's so skeered on yore 'count – you havin' been alluz mouty friendly to me an' you still so young, too! An' I's skeered on Mr. Dallases' 'count lakwise, 'cause these cotehouse folks up yere they prob'ly won't 'preciate whut is the custom of our locality fur the settlin' of privit misunderstandin's betwixt gen'elmen. I'm most crazy in my mind, ez you kin see! Ef only I could a-got him cooled off an' ca'mmed down befo' you got yere! I tried an' I tried but 'twuzn't no use – it never is no use tryin', wid a Pulliam. An' even now ef only we could onduce him to hole off an' lis'sen to reasonable argumints frum you befo' he cuts loose! Oh, Mr. Raynor, I do hope an' pray he see fit to give you a chanc't to 'splain 'way the diffe'nces! But, oh, I dreads the wust! 'Cause he's crouchin' back yonder waitin', wid his trigger-finger twitchin', an' w'en he sees you – "

"Let me out of here!" he says. And though he says it kind of half-whispering yet he says it kind of half-screeching, too.

And with that he makes a break for the door behind him, aiming to bust out down the hall. But it's locked.

And with that, likewise I turns over a little centre-table and it goes down on its side with a bang, which that is the ordained signal agreed on previous, and I lets a yell out of me.

"Oh, Lawsy," I yells, "it's too late – yere he is now!"

And then Mr. Raynor ceases from pawing at the latch and spins round and plasters himself flat against the door-panels like he was pinned there, with his arms stretched wide and his fingers clawing at the wood-work. And here, in through the curtains of the library door comes Mr. Dallas, that's all, stepping light on the balls of his feet, with his eyes blazing and his hair all mussed-up, and down at his right side, it swinging loose and free, he's carrying that three-pound chunk of Snake-Eye Jamison's shootlery. I don't know whether it's the excitement, or the spell of the play-acting on him, or the righteous mad which is in him, but he looks so perilous I'm mighty near scared of him my own self. And even though he ain't never toted no pistol before in his life he's handling this here big blue borrowed smoke-wagon like he'd cut his milk-teeth on one. And I'm mighty glad she ain't loaded, neither; else he might start living up to the reputation I've done endowed him with.

That's all, but that's plenty! As Mr. H. C. Raynor's knees begins giving way under him he starts in to pleading at the top of his voice. You could a-heard him plumb down in the street I reckon.

"For God's sake," he begs, "don't shoot! For God's sake, don't shoot yet! Give me a minute – give me time to explain! I'll do anything you say, Pulliam – we can square this thing! Only, for God's sake, don't shoot!"

By the time he's got this much out of him he's setting down flat against the door, with his legs stretched out straight in front of him and his feet kind of dancing on the floor so that his heels makes little knocking sounds. He looks like he's fixing to faint away. Maybe he did faint, but if he did, I know the faintfulness didn't get no higher up than his throat, because the last thing I heard as I went on out from there through the library, was him still babbling away.

Up till the time I left, Mr. Dallas hadn't spoke nary word – just stood there wagging that there chunk of hardware in the general direction of Mr. Raynor and licking at his lips with his tongue, sort of eager-like. Well, thus far, it hadn't been necessary for him to say nothing – Mr. Raynor was doing enough talking for any number you might care to name, up to half a dozen.

Chapter XX

Piebald Joys

IT'S maybe twenty minutes later on when Mr. Dallas calls to me to come to him and bring Koga with me, him saying the both of us is required for to witness an agreement which has been drawed up. Right then and there for the first and last time in my life, that there Japanee boy wins my admirations. He don't bat a single eye-lash as he follows me in where they is. He acts like all his life he'd been used to walking into a setting-room and finding two gentlemen there, one of 'em with a pistol and the other with a hard chill. He just sucks his breath in once or twice and starts smiling very pleasant upon one and all. I judges he must a-been brought up in a kind of a rough neighborhood over in his own country.

Mr. Raynor has done rose up from the floor by this time, and is setting in a chair where he can be more comfortable; at that, he ain't seeming totally comfortable. His teeth and his hands and his feet keeps on misbehaving, and he looks to me like he's been losing considerable flesh even in that short time since I left him. His complexion also remains very bad. You'd say, offhand, here was a gentleman fixing to be taken down with a severe spell of illness, or else just getting over one and still far from well.

He puts his name to a piece of writing which is spread out on the table, Mr. Dallas standing over him and sort of indicating the place to him with the nozzle of that there trusty old forty-four. He has some difficulty in getting his name set down by reason of him keeping flinching away from the gun and also on account of his fingers being so out of control. Then me and Koga likewise signs and whilst I is so doing I rejoices to note that the document is all done in Mr. Dallases' handwriting.

When this has been attended to there does not seem to be no reason why Mr. Raynor should linger longer amongst us. He indicates that he craves to go but still don't actually go till Mr. Dallas gives him the word. For such a previously brash white man he certainly has been rendered very docile. And dumb – huh! Alongside of him guinea-pigs is plumb rambunctuous.

I helps him on with his overcoat, which he has trouble getting into it by reason of not seeming to be able to stick his arms into the sleeves until after several tries; and such is his agitated feelings that he starts off forgetting his hat. I puts it on his head for him, him not saying a word but just staring about him kind of null and void, and now and then shivering slightly; and as he goes down the hall towards the elevator he's got one hand sort of pressed up against the wall for to support him on his way. If I'd been him I should a-went right straight on home and laid down for a spell. Probably that's what he did do. I know I ain't seen hair nor hide of him since and I ain't expecting to do so, neither, without we should run into one another by accident on the street sometime.

As I comes back from the front door after seeing him safely off, Mr. Dallas is waiting for me in the middle of the floor with a grin on his face, which it mighty near splits his face in half across the middle. He lays down the agreement paper and the artillery so he can shake hands with me with both hands.

"Jeff," he says, "for the second time in less than two hours let me tender you my earnest congratulations and my everlasting gratitude. Thanks to you," he says, "and you alone, I'm getting out of the double-barreled hole I was in, reasonably intact. What's gone I'll gladly charge up to profit and loss and valuable experience. What's left is a whole lot more than I had dared to hope it would be before you took a hand. When I look back on my feelings last night and contrast them with my feelings today – say, by Jupiter!" he says, "come to think of it, it's all happened between late dinner-time of one day and late lunch-time of the next! It doesn't seem possible! What can I do to square myself with you for the debt I owe you?"

"Well, suh," I says, "you mout start in to please me by eatin' a lil' somethin'. Yore speakin' of lunch-time 'minds me 'at you ain't been right constant at yore meals lately. Whut you needs," I says, "is to git yore appetite back an' stow a smidgin' of warm vittles down yore insides."

"Jeff," he says, still hanging onto my hands and pumping 'em so fervent it makes me feel right diffident for him to be doing so, "you're the doctor and your prescriptions suit me. Bring on the grub! Say it with chowders! We'll celebrate," he says, "over the festal hot biscuits! What, ho, for the wassail waffles!"

And with that he goes prancing about over the room dragging me along with him, like he was, say, about nine years old, going on ten.

Chapter XXI

Headed Home

FOR a fact, that meal which he eats is more like a celebration than a regulation meal, but considering of everything, I reckon that's no more than what is to be expected.

He's half way through with his second helpings of the lamb chops when he looks up at me where I'm standing back of his chair and he says to me with one of them old-time little-boy twinkles in his eye, like he used to have:

"Jeff," he says, "you certainly can paint a fanciful picture when you set yourself to it. When I think of the blood-thirsty characteristics which you bestowed upon those devout and peace-loving ancestors of mine I have to stop eating and laugh again."

"You must a-been lis'senin' 'en," I says.

"I overheard part of the tale from behind the portieres," he says. "Oh, but it was great stuff, and highly convincing! Even in that crucial moment I could appreciate your deft touches."

"You ain't knowin' the ha'f of it yit, suh," I says. "Wait till you hears tell 'bout them fictionary kinsfolks I's conferred 'pon you in 'nother quarter an' how I endowed the whole passil of 'em wid the chronic failin' of bein' onreliable in the haid. I 'spects you'll want to use 'at pistol shore-'nuff in earnest 'en."

"Not me," he says; "not me. I'll give three ringing cheers for your superior inventive qualities. If I had your power of imagination I'd charge admission," he says.

"I'm glad you feels 'at way, suh," I says, "but I shore does aim to walk wide of the deceasted members of the Pulliam fambly w'en I crosses over to the fur side of the deep River of Jordan," I says. "I ain't cravin' to git in no jam wid any ole residenter angels till I's used to bein' one myse'f. I wonder," I says, "whut Mr. H. C. Raynor'd think ef he knowed 'at yore Uncle Zachary wuz a Persistin' Elder of the Southe'n Meth'dis' Church fur goin' on twenty yeahs?"

"Never mind what he thinks now or hereafter," he says. "It's what my late partner did that counts. Anyhow, you didn't deceive him when you told him Uncle Zach's nickname."

"'At did fit in nice," I says; "me rememb'rin', jest in the nick of time, 'at they called the ole gen'elman Hell Roarin' Zach by reason of his exhortin' powers w'en 'scribin' them brimstones an' them hot fires bein' so potent 'at the sinners could smell 'em an' shiver. Well, suh, tha's all part of my system: Stir a slight seasonin' of truthfulness into the mixture frum time to time an' it meks the batter stand up stiffer. An' also don't never waste a good lie widout you has to – save 'em till you needs 'em. Tha's my motto, suh."

"And I subscribe to it," he says, and he chuckles some more. In fact he's chuckling right straight along till he gets up from the table. Then he rears back in a chair and sets a cigar going. He makes me take a cigar, too, which it is the first time I has ever smoked in a white gentleman's presence whilst serving him. But this is a special occasion and more like a jollification than anything else. So I starts puffing on her when my Young Cap'n insists upon it; and then, at his command, I just lit in and told him all what had happened at Miss DeWitt's flat that morning and about a lot of other things – things I'd overheard and things I'd suspicioned – which it had not seemed fitten to tell 'em to him before this, but now both time and place appears suitable.

Talking about one thing leads to talking about another, as it will, and presently I finds myself confiding to him the expective undertakings of the firm of Poindexter & Petty, which that is all news out of a clear sky to him, seeing as I'd kept this to myself as a private matter in the early stages. He says he'd sort of figured, though, I had something up my sleeves, by reason of my having seemed so interested in the moving-picture business and all. And though he don't say so, I judges he figures out, too, that here lately I maybe has refrained from speaking to him about my own affairs when he was so pesticated about his own – which also, more or less, is the truth of it.

But now he's deeply interested and 'lows he wants to hear more. He states that while he's sorry on his own account that I is not going back home with him when he goes, which that will be just as soon as he can clean up things here and sell off the lease on the apartment and so forth, still, he says, he's glad for my sake that I'm going to stay on since I've got bright prospects ahead of me for to break into the business life of the Great City. Him saying this so kindly inspires me to go on and tell him all about our plans and purposes. I says that the outlook is that me and 'Lisses Petty will be ready to open up pretty soon, seeing as I has had word just two days before from Mr. Simons that he's almost ready to cut loose with his announcements in the papers. I'm going on further along this line when all of a sudden he busts in to ask me what about the old judge coming home in the spring-time from foreign-off parts and not finding me there to meet him?

Well, sirs, that do fetch me up short with a jar! Because, if it must be confessed, I've got to admit I has been so carried away with my own pet schemes that the thought of my obligations to Judge Priest is done entirely escaped out of my foolish mind. I hates to draw back from them new ambitions of mine and yet, seems like, I can't hardly bear the notion of breaking my bounden promises to my old boss-man after the way we'd been associated together under the same roof for going on it's sixteen years. What with the one thing pulling me this here way and the other thing pulling me that there way, all of a sudden I now gets a kind of a choked-up feeling in my breast. I don't know whether it's the wrench at my heart or the strain on my wishbone. But it's there! So I ups and puts the proposition before the Young Cap'n and I asks what he thinks I should do?

He studies a minute and then he says to me, he says:

"Jeff," he says, "I'll tell you how I feel about it and if, in view of the lack of judgment I've shown recently in certain other matters, you still regard my advice as being worth anything, you're welcome to it. You believe you've got a chance to make good up here, don't you? Well, then, I believe it's your duty to yourself, regardless of almost every other consideration, to take advantage of that chance. And I'm positive Judge Priest will feel the same way about it when he learns the situation. I believe he'll gladly release you from any obligations you may owe him. In fact, knowing him so well, I'll bank on it. With your consent I'll write him tonight, a long letter, setting forth the exact conditions. How does that strike you."

I tells him I is agreeable to that. But I says to him, I says:

"Mr. Dallas, one thing more, please, suh? In yore letter tell the Jedge 'at w'en he gits back, ef he finds the home-place ain't runnin' to suit him widout me on hand to he'p look after his comfort, w'y all he's got do is jest lemme know an' I'll ketch the next train fur home. Ef the bus'ness yere can't run herse'f aw'ile wid 'Lisses Petty alone on the job by hisse'f, then let the whole she-bang go busted – tha's all.

"Lis'sen, Mr. Dallas," I says, "I got yit 'nother idee in my haid – I craves to demerstrate one thing! They's some w'ite folkses w'ich claims the run of black folks nowadays ain't got no proper sense of gratitudes nor faithfulness, neither. They claims 'at the new-issue cullid ain't lak the ole-timers of the race wuz – 'at they furgits favors an' bre'ks pledges an' sometimes turns an' bites the hand w'ich has fed an' fondled 'em. Mebbe they is right – I ain't 'sputin' they ain't, in some cases. But I is sayin' they is one shiny black nigger jest rearin' to prove the contrarywise so fur ez he pussonally is concern', w'ich I'm," I says, "him!

"An' in fu'ther proof whar'of," I says, "I begs you to mek me a solemn promise, yere an' now. I asts you, please, suh, to keep yo eye on the ole boss-man an' ef he sh'd show the onfailin' signs of feeblin'-up an' bre'kin' down – w'ich is only to be 'spected, seein' ez he is gittin' 'long so in yeahs – I don't want you to wait 'twell he notifies me hisse'f 'at he's needin' me. 'Cause the chances is he wouldn't do it, noways, effen he feared it mout mean a sacrifice on my part fur me to come to him. I wants you to send me the word on yore own 'sponsibility an' I'll git to his side jest ez fast ez them steam-cyars kin tote me."

He says he is glad I feels thus-and-so about it and he gladly passes his word to do like I asked him, if the situation arises. With this here point settled he guides me back to tell him yet more about the prospects of Poindexter & Petty. Which I ain't needing much prompting there, seeing as the said projects lays close to my heart and my mind. I tells him we has reached the point where we is about to close the deal for the office. In fact, I says, I has been calculating some on running up-town to see 'Lisses about that very detail this same afternoon providing he don't need me round the apartment to do something or other for him. Whereupon he up and says an astonishing thing:

"I'll go along with you if you don't mind," he says. "I want to have a look at this associate of yours and get his views. I'd like to do more than that if it can be arranged; I'd like to lend my aid in helping to put this enterprise on its feet – to feel that, in one way or another, I had a friendly hand in it. I'm your eternal debtor, you know, Jeff."

"Go 'way frum yere, Mr. Dallas," I says, "an' quit yore foolin'. Whut bus'ness has you got gittin' yo'se'f mixed in wid a pack of nigger-rubbage? Whut would the rest of the high-toned folks down home say ef they heared of any sech goings-on 'pon yore part? Tell me 'at, suh?"

"Never mind what they'd think or what they'd say," he says; "that's my look-out. Tell me the truth now, Jeff, – have you two boys got all the money you need to start you up and to keep you going until your agency begins to pay?"

At that I has to admit to him that the prior expenses has been right smart heavier than what us two had figured on at the start-off.

"That's what I rather suspected," he says. "Now then, I've got out of my own complications in much better shape than I'd ever dreamed I could. I still have a sizeable stake left. In fact I figure I've got just about a thousand dollars to spare. If you don't feel like taking a thousand dollars from me as a gift, or in part payment for your services to me during the past twenty-odd hours, why not take it as a loan without interest until you get on your feet, or until you've had ample opportunity to try this new venture out thoroughly – No, by Jove, I've got a better plan than that! I want to stick that thousand in as an investment along with you two boys. If I never get it back, or any part of it, count it money well-spent. I've made a number of other investments in my bright young life that didn't pay either, and I'll be drawing regular dividends on this one, even though they may not be in terms of dollars and cents. Come on – let's go see this friend, Petty, of yours. You can't keep me out of the deal on anything short of an injunction."

What is you going to do with a hard-headed white man when he gets his neck bowed that-a-way? You is going to do just what we done, that's what you going do! So that's how come Poindexter & Petty is now got for their silent partner a member of one of the oldest families in West Kentucky and pure quality from the feet up.

I has come mighty close to forgetting one other thing which happens before we leaves the place to go on up to Harlem. I is helping him on with his coat when he says:

"Wait a minute! I want to write out some telegrams first. I want to send one to my lawyer, Mr. Jere Fairleigh, stating that the Prodigal will shortly be on his way back, and one to my cousin to have the home-place opened up for me – and one other. I've gotten rather behind with my correspondence lately; I'll do some letter-writing tonight. But I'll wire on ahead first. You call a messenger-boy, Jeff."

I trusts I is not no spy but I just can't keep from peeping over his shoulder whilst he's writing out that there third telegram – which it is pretty near long enough to be a letter itself – and I is rejoiced in my soul to note that it's being sent to the one I hoped 'twas – and that's Miss Henrietta Farrell.