Skewer

“ The skewers should be about four inches long, and of the thickness of an ordinary packing needle. The person eating what is served on them takes the head of the skewer between the thumb and fingers of the left hand, and picks it off with his fork. ”

“ Now, multiplying the number of skewers so delivered by the number of barrows, a total of sixty-two thousand seven hundred and forty- eight skewers daily would be obtained. Allowing that, of these sixty-two thousand seven hundred and forty-eight skewers, the odd two thousand seven hundred and forty-eight were accidentally devoured with the meat, by the most voracious of the animals supplied, it followed that sixty thousand skewers per day, or the enormous number of twenty-one millions nine hundred thousand skewers annually, were wasted in the kennels and dustholes of London ”

“ I mean to train a squirrel to come gnaw me free. What you say to that, Skeeter?”
“Squirrel much! I’m going to be so quick with my gun that the bold brigands will wish they had stayed with Uncle Albert. As for lassoing—I am some pumpkins myself with the rope. Look at this!” and twirling the gunnysack [221] around with the lunch serving as ballast, Skeeter caught his chum neatly around the neck.
“Oh, oh! You’ll mash the sandwiches!” wailed the others.
“Let’s sit down and eat ’em up now,” suggested Skeeter. “I am tired of being made the beast of burden. I believe in distribution of labor.” ”

“ Suddenly his eyes focused on something. It might be part of the brush, and again it might be the legs of a man; a man whose body was completely screened by the heavy foliage. Skeeter considered these leg-like things very closely. Then came a dry cough—more like a wheezing chuckle; as if the man had tried to choke it and merely strangled. It came from above the legs.
“Pardner,” said Skeeter distinctly, “I’ve got yore legs in trouble. ’F yuh don’t toss yore gun over toward me, I’m shore goin’ t’ interest yuh in a pair of crutches.” ”

“ In the many years that Skeeter had been his “pet nigger,” his “favorite insect,” Flournoy had found him in so many unexpected places that he had ceased to be surprised.
“What are you doing up on this roof?” Flournoy asked, pushing up the trap-door and looking at Skeeter’s outline in the dark.
“I climbed up to look fer fire on de roof, Marse John,” Skeeter said, artfully blocking the door with his foot so that the sheriff could not easily raise it higher. “Dis roof is powerful slick, Marse John. You better not climb out. Dar ain’t no fire up here nohow!” ”

“ Skeeter swung up the sack in both hands and brought it down upon the unprotected head of the staggering storekeeper, knocking him to the floor in a smother of flour from the burst sack.
On the floor near him was a great coil of new, half-inch Manila rope. As the storekeeper struggled to his feet Skeeter back-heeled him neatly and broke all records for hog-tying a human being.
The storekeeper let out a yelp for assistance, but Skeeter shook the rest of the flour out of the sack and used the sack to gag his victim. Then Skeeter proceeded to stack up his list of necessities, working swiftly. ”

“ At the nearest corner Skeeter came to a quick stop.
“Ef Shin Bone is settin’ in his eatin’ house drunk an’ singin’ religium toons, it’s a shore sign he’d shoot me in a minute ef I tried to git dat Ready Rocket.”
He snatched off his hat, clawed at his thinly cropped hair, and sighed like the exhaust of a steamboat.
“Ain’t I in a awful mess?” he panted. “I done twisted an’ turned myse’f till I’s too crooked to walk through a tunnel—when I die dey’ll hab to bury me in a round hat box!” ”

“ Skeeter grinned. “I kin always think up plenty good plans fer de yuther feller. I falls down when I begins to study fer myse’f.”
“How come you wants dese two to win so bad?” Wash asked.
“I’s tryin’ to break Pap Curtain’s nose!” Skeeter exclaimed. “He’s atter de fat widder an’ her easy money. He aims to start a saloon, an’ I’s de leader of de highest alcoholic circles in dis town an’ don’t need no competition.”
“Nachelly you is ag’in’ dat,” Wash said promptly. “Mebbe ef you could loant me twenty dollars I could think up some good plan to he’p you out.” ”

“ Mustard said in a relieved tone. “Ef you had been out of town I would hab fotch’ my troubles to you jes’ the same, whar you wus.”
“Dis is whar you gits exputt advices on ev’ything,” Skeeter laughed as he sat down and lighted a cigarette.
Why is it that people make confidants of barkeeps?
And whom will we tell our troubles to when the world is made safe for prohibition?
Skeeter was a saddle-colored, dapper, petite negro, the dressiest man of any color who ever lived in Tickfall. His hair was always closely clipped, the part made in the middle of his head with a razor. ”

“ Let’s see you catch one of these ponies.”
“No, friend,” replied the American, putting aside the proffered coil; “I don’t rope other people’s beasts without their permission, nor do I wish to show off.” “All right, mister, don’t be huffy about it,” said the man; “but that there stallion”—indicating Skewbald—“is worth five bob to me, if you can rope him. Joe Smith has been wild to get him for weeks past, but the skewbald has gone away every time. Only a rope will get him. You might help a pore man,” he urged with garrulous earnestness. ”

“ Faint, weak, giddy, Sugar Sibley staggered back to Skeeter Butts, reeling like a drunkard, clutching at her throat for its hoarseness, dripping with perspiration, her eyeballs burning like coals of fire.
“My Gawd!” Skeeter moaned. “Whut’s done gone an’ happened to dat Doodle-Bug?”
“Nothin’!” Sugar Sibley panted. “Doodle’s all right. Doodle belongs to me. He was riz an’ borned on my little farm an’ my chile Jimmy is a ridin’ him. Us always makes a killin’ on Nigger Day at the parish fairs.” ”

“ The judge was leaving the bench, and the jury had been discharged. The room still buzzed with conversation, and Skeeter heard one man say:
“—— such a judge! He ain’t got guts enough to hang a sheep-herder!”
Skeeter turned and looked at this man. He was a small, thin-faced, almost chinless person with close-set eyes and a broken nose. His eyes dropped under Skeeter’s stare, and he turned away, walking with arms bent stiffly at the elbow and with a peculiar swaying motion.
“That’s Kales,” said Freel as Skeeter turned back. “He’s a gunman. I think he is working for some of the cattle outfits.” ”

“ With a pompous air Conko Mukes thrust his hand into his pocket and brought out a large roll of bills which had been carefully wrapped around a fat corn-cob. He tossed it across the table. 42
“Dar am fifteen dollars whut you kin bet fer me, Skeeter. Dat many money says to you dat I’s gwine make Hitch Diamond dig a hole in de groun’ to git away from de Georgia Cyclome.”
“Hitch specify dat he gwine rub his gloves wid hoodoo-juice,” Skeeter said as he fumbled with the corn-cob. “Ain’t you got no stunts like dat to pull on?” ”

“ Skeggs’s casual remark about the pedlar and his wife, unheeded at the time, now flashed vividly across Kester’s mind.
“You will have to wait here till I can get assistance,” he said, in answer to his companion’s question. “There is no help for it.”
“I suppose not,” growled Skeggs. “Was ever anything so cursedly unfortunate?”
“Sedgeley is the nearest place to this,” said Kester. “There are plenty of men there who know the moor thoroughly. I will send half a dozen of them to your help.” ”

“ The woman’s fat body shook with silent laughter and her little pig eyes glowed like emeralds. She laid a heavy, fat hand on Skeeter’s knee.
“I’s got a hoodoo face, Skeeter!” she bawled. “When a nigger looks at my fat mug, all de meanness in him comes right out on his face so I kin read it like de white folks reads a book. Yes, suh, I got a hoodoo face!”
While Skeeter Butts sat beside her and trembled, wondering what to say, and very much wishing himself somewhere else, Dinner Gaze and Tucky Sugg came around to the side of the house where they were sitting. ”

“ As they topped the crest of a hill Skeeter looked back, but the pursuit had not started yet; so he yelled threateningly at the old gray, and they lurched off down the grade in a cloud of alkali dust.
Skeeter knew that the cowboys would probably follow him and try to recover the supplies, but he also knew that they would not get them without a fight. He had promised the Kirks that he would bring back the supplies, and Skeeter Bill meant to keep his word. ”

“ Kirk turned and looked at Skeeter.
“No, I am not a killer. I never shot at a man before.”
He pointed down across the brush toward the sheep.
“Do you think I love those things? Sarg, I am not physically fit to do a man’s work, and I can’t live inside a house. Out here in the hills I have a fighting chance to live, and there is nothing I can get to do, that I can do, except herd sheep.”
“Well,” drawled Skeeter, “I reckon we better give three cheers for the sheep. But I’m still a li’l hazy as t’ why yuh tried t’ bump me off, pardner.” ”

“ Skeeter answered. “A new nigger woman is visitin’ in dis town, an’ me an her begun to shine up to each yuther real prompt. She’s got a little boy jes’ de size an’ age an’ color of dis here brat of your’n.”
“Dat don’t he’p me none,” Whiffle mourned.
“When I talks—you listen!” Skeeter snapped. “Don’t try to bake no biscuits till I git done mixin’ de dough! All I wants you to do is to git de repote to Shin Bone private an’ confidential dat you is gwine out of town fer a little rest an’ dat I will keep yo’ baby till you gits back. Atter dat, jes’ take yo’ brat an’ go!” ”

“ Git up!”
“Hush, Skeeter!” Mustard Prophet warned him. “You’re hollerin’ loud enough to wake up all de white folks in dis town, but it takes a real whoopful tone to wake a nigger. Don’t fotch all de white folks up on us.”
“How we gwine git dis old fool woked up?” Skeeter snapped.
“Take a brick off de top of de chimney an’ throw it down at him,” Little Bit suggested.
They wrenched off a brick and threw it. It hit the ground with a loud slap. Vinegar slept on.
“I knowed dat would be de come-out,” Hitch grumbled. “Bricks won’t wake up a nigger onless dey land on his head!” ”

“ Skeeter exclaimed quickly. “Womans ain’t be allowed in de Scratch. But ef yo’ little boy makes a hit, I might could git de Revun Vinegar Atts to gib a baby show at de Shoofly chu’ch, an’ I’m shore yo’ little boy would tote off de prize.”
“You kin hab him, Skeeter!” the woman exclaimed exultantly. “You come fer him to-night atter supper. I’ll hab him all dressed up like a circus bandwagon. Only I gibs you dis advice right now: don’t grab my chile by de lef’ arm onless you wants him to sot up a howl. Dat arm is powerful sore!” ”

“ I’s a heavy-weight.”
“You always wus a sinker,” Skeeter smiled, as he watched Figger sketch the outline of an Indian face in the soft pine with his knife-point before beginning to carve. “You jes’ nachelly went down ever since I knowed you.”
“Dese Uplifters is uppity, biggity, high-brow niggers. Dey’s always jawin’ about high cullud sawciety, an’ who b’longs an’ who ain’t b’long. Dey ain’t black folks; dey’s play-like whites.”
“Dey’s actin’ an’ playin’ like niggers now,” Skeeter grinned. “Dey’s in a awful row ’bout who’s gwine be elected to de high-up offices of de Uplift. ”

“ Skeeter asked uneasily.
“I argufies dis way,” Vinegar declared, boring with his right middle finger into the palm of his left hand to emphasize his remarks: “Ef you is gwine die an’ go to hell ’thout reformin’ yo’ badness, of co’se yo’ secret enemies am de debbil an’ his angels, an’ dem plans you spoke ’bout is a kind of infernum machine like a cuttin’-box. I bet you git bofe yo behime legs chopped off befo’ to-morrer mawnin’.”
“Lawd,” Skeeter sighed pitiably. “I’s powerful glad dar’s a full moon to-night. She’ll git up over dem trees in a little while. I needs mo’ light!” ”

“ He argufy dat dar ain’t no kind of handcuff made dat he can’t git hisse’f loose from in less’n five minutes. Does you reckin dat is so, Marse John?”
“Certainly,” the sheriff answered promptly.
“How come?” Skeeter asked.
This was one theme upon which the sheriff was 200 competent to speak. He leaned back in his chair, lighted a cigar, and began:
“There are one hundred and forty-two varieties of handcuffs and leg-irons manufactured in the civilized world, Skeeter, but there are only thirty-two separate brands which are registered for use by officers of the law in the United States. ”

“ He balks because he figgers you is tryin’ to make him go aroun’ de track de wrong way. Face him right an’ back him up, an’ when he gits started, he’ll run like a rabbit!”
Skeeter and Sugar heard this advice, and it restored Skeeter’s hopes in the horse. Sugar, anticipating a share in Skeeter’s winnings, became extremely gracious.
“Come an’ set down by me, Skeeter,” she said. “You an’ Popper Curtain kin set on each side of me an’ I’ll set in de middle. ’Tain’t no use fer you to be jealousy of dat ole man. He’s ole enough to be my daddy, an’ I’s jes’ bein’ gentle to him. I’s dead stuck on you!” ”

“ The old gray looked like an advertisement for a popular soap-suds powder when they skidded, slewed and lurched down on to the sheep-ranch flat and stopped at the door of the little cabin. Skeeter yelped loudly, but no one answered his hail; so he fell off the rickety seat and began gathering up packages from the rear of the wagon, while the ancient gray spread its legs wide apart and heaved like a bellows.
“Maud S,” said Skeeter, “you ain’t —— for speed, but yuh shore can lather a-plenty. ’F I had a razor I’d give yuh a shave.” ”