Chapter III: Fourteen Swallows

Keeping the river levee between himself and the town so that no one could see him in his half-dressed condition, Hitch departed from the vicinity of Sawtown with expedition. When he reached the edge of the woods about a mile from the mill, he sat down to think a way out of his difficulties.

“My head is jes’ like a mule’s head,” he announced to himself. “I cain’t hold but only one notion at a time. I been thinkin’ so heavy all de time about my lost money dat I done loss all my good clothes, too. I oughter knowed better. Now I’s gwine git active an’ sot myse’f up in bizzness agin.”

He sat for a long time in deep, silent meditation, trying to extract an idea from his slow brain. Then he concluded:

“I drunk too much dram in N’Awleens. My head ain’t right. Ef I could git me a good dram now, mebbe I could think up a notion whut to do.”

In his impoverished condition he saw no way of buying a drink. He cast about to see what he possessed which he might exchange for one, and pulled out of his hip-pocket his silk socks, the joy and pride of his life in their glorious coloring--purple, striped with yellow!

“Dey costed me two dollars,” Hitch sighed as he gazed upon them fondly. “I could swap ’em off in Sawtown, but I ain’t gwine back dar no more. Ef I does, some nigger will steal my pants an’ my socks, too. Plenty of country niggers is got dram.”

He walked barefooted through the woods and came out at a level plantation some distance back from the river. In the middle of a cow-pasture, a tall, brown, bright-eyed negro watched Hitch approach with impassive curiosity.

“Howdy, my brudder!” Hitch boomed. “How am yo’ soul an’ spirit dis day?”

“De spirit is pretty low, elder,” the farmer replied. “De ole woman am got de dram all locked up tight.”

“How come you choose de lily-pad route an’ live on water?” Hitch asked in a disappointed tone.

“I got married,” the young negro responded with a grin.

Suddenly a big Jersey bull broke through the underbrush and came toward the two men, snorting, bellowing, pawing the ground, tossing the dirt upon his shoulders, and shaking his powerful head.

“Dat’s mine, stranger,” the young man remarked proudly, removing the top from a bucket on his arm and tossing a handful of salt at the animal’s feet. “He don’t like dat red undershirt of your’n. Ain’t him a dandy?”

“Shore is,” Hitch said meditatively. After a moment, he added: “Ef dat ole bull wus to hook one of us, I ’speck yo’ bride would affode us a little dram to stimulate us up.”

“I resigns in yo’ favor, elder,” the owner grinned. “Ef dis here beast wus to butt me, he’d jolt all my kinnery plum’ back to Afriky.”

There was a period of silent and fruitless meditation. Then, sorrowfully, Hitch Diamond reached to his hip-pocket and brought forth his purple socks with the yellow stripes--all, except his trousers, that remained of his former glory.

“Whut’s yo’ name?” Hitch asked.

“Dey calls me Dude Blackum because I got a gold tooth,” the other informed him.

“Whut is yo’ wife called?” Hitch asked next.

“Dainty.”

“I wants to make a little trade, Dude,” Hitch remarked, after he had told his own name. “Dese here socks costed me two dollars. My head ain’t thinkin’ right to-day. You is a heavy thinker. Ef you kin think up a sketch of how I kin git a dram right now, I’ll bestow dese here socks on you.”

“De trade is did!” Dude grinned, showing his gold tooth. “Lemme think!”

“Bawl out, nigger!” Hitch grumbled after a little wait. “Don’t keep me waitin’ here in expense no longer.”

“I wus studyin’ ’bout dis,” Dude said. “I’s got a little touch of lumbago in my legs. An’ mebbe, ef dat bull would jes’ butt me real easy like, an’ I’d kinder drap off in dat bayou an’ git wet, an’ den walk back home in drippy clothes wid dis mis’ry gnawin’ at my legs----”

Hitch’s face was so expressive of contempt that Dude stopped speaking.

“Is dat whut you call heavy thinkin’?” Hitch inquired in sarcastic tones. “Dat high-brow plan might steal you a nubbin of corn from a blind pig’s slop-trough. But Dainty ain’t no blind pig--dese here brides gits awful wise on deir husbunts atter dey marries ’em.”

“Wait till I finish, Hitch,” Dude begged. “Now, my view is dis: you go up to de house an’ cornverse Dainty till I comes in all wet an’ mournin’ ’bout how hurt I is. Atter I come in, you say to Dainty dat she better gimme a dram because I’s so crippled up. Of co’se, she will hab to be manners an’ gib you some, too.”

“Dar, now!” Hitch boomed. “You shore is a smart boy, Dude. Dat plan is accawdin’ to de Bible, wise as suppents an’ harmless as ducks. But”----

Here Hitch broke off and looked down at his clothes.

“It ’pears to me it ain’t proper to call on a lady when I is barefooted an’ ain’t got nothin’ on but a pair of pants an’ a red undershirt,” he mourned.

“Dat won’t make no diffunce,” Dude assured him. “All de niggers wucks in de big mill dresses jes’ like you is now. Dainty will figger dat you is a sawmill hand. Talk right up to her, Revun”----

“I ain’t no preacher!” Hitch interrupted, growling like an angry bear. “I’s a prize-fighter.”

“Dat won’t do,” Dude chuckled, as he looked at the giant’s mighty arms and shoulders. “Dainty is powerful sot on preachers. I ’speck you better be one as long as you is hangin’ aroun’ her.”

“All right,” Hitch said reluctantly, as he started away. “I ain’t none too good or too proud to piddle wid dat job--ef I got to.”

“Hol’ on, Hitch!” Dude exclaimed. “You ain’t gimme dem silk socks yit!”

Hitch’s experience in Sawtown had made him cautious. After a man has parted with a certain amount of his wearing apparel, he becomes reluctant to separate himself from the rest in a civilized community unless he contemplates becoming a he-mermaid and living in the river.

Hitch held out one sock.

“I’ll gib you one sock now, Dude,” he said cunningly. “Dat’ll keep yo’ mind int’rusted. Atter I git de dram, I’ll leave de yuther sock on de flo’ or de mantlepiece, kinder keerless like.”

Dude accepted the partial payment and stuck the gaudy sock into his derby hat and placed the hat on his head.

On his way to the cabin, which lay across the pasture, Hitch Diamond also did some heavy thinking.

“I wonder how much dram dat nigger woman is got,” he muttered to himself. “I bet dar ain’t enough for two. Ef she ain’t nothin’ but one of dese here soft, giggly, gal-wifes, mebbe I kin bamboozle her outen a dram befo’ Dude comes in.”

Dainty met Hitch at the door.

“My name am Hitch Diamond, Dainty,” he rumbled. “I met Dude out in de cow pasture an’ he tole me he done cormitted mattermony. I felt powerful bad because he didn’t send fer his ole preacher frien’ to come ’n’ marrify him. He sont me up here to take a look at you.”

“Come in, elder,” Dainty giggled. “How is you feelin’ to-day?”

“Lawd, honey, I feels a whole passel better since I sot my eyes on you. You’s prettier’n a little pig. But I been feelin’ powerful sick.”

“Whut ails you?” the girl asked with instant sympathy.

“I’s got a wo-begone spasm in my stomick an’ a empty feelin’ in my head.”

“Dat’s too bad,” Dainty said. “Would a little drap----”

“Yes’m,” Hitch responded promptly. “Dat’s jes’ de med’cine I needs. De dorctor obscribes brandy fer all my ailments.”

Dainty extracted a key from the pocket of her dress and opened the door of a little storeroom which contained a little trunk. Drawing forth another key, she opened the trunk and brought out a jug.

“I’s glad Dude didn’t come to de house wid you,” Dainty remarked. “I don’t let him hab no more booze. He come home ’bout two weeks ago an’ couldn’t git past dat oak tree out dar in dat yard. He seed two trees whar dar wusn’t but jes’ only one, an’ he mighty nigh butted his fool head off tryin’ to walk between dem trees.”

She set the jug and the drinking glass beside Hitch Diamond and took her seat in a rickety hide-bottomed chair.

Hitch looked at the glass, picked it up and fumbled it, and set it down apologetically.

“Sister Dainty,” he murmured, “ef you ain’t got no objections, I’ll drink outen dis jug de way I wus raised.”

Catching the handle with his left hand, he gave the jug a quick turn, rested it upon the crook of his uplifted elbow, and applied his lips to the spout. Dainty watched him with fascinated eyes.

When at last he set the jug upon the table and seated himself beside it, she said with a chuckle:

“Elder, when I wus a little gal I wus always countin’--I used to count de cobs in de feed-trough, an’ de beans in a hull, an’ de number of swallers a cow tuck when she drunk water.”

“Jes’ so,” Hitch responded, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his red undershirt.

“Seben swallers is a big drink fer a cow, elder,” Dainty continued.

“Dat’s right,” Hitch agreed.

“Elder,” Dainty chuckled, “when you wus drinkin’ outen my jug, you swallered fo’teen times!”

“Yes’m,” Hitch replied solemnly. “I tole you I wus feelin’ powerful sick!”

Suddenly he remembered that he was playing the part of a preacher. He decided he ought to say something religious. So he began:

“Sister Dainty, dis am de Bible law about de imbibin’ of awjus liquors: de amount of booze a man oughter drink depen’s on how much he kin hold inside hisse’f an’ at de same time resist de effecks; but, neverdeless an’ howsumever, eve’y man oughter take a little dram fer his stomick’s ache in case of powerful sickness.”

“Yes, suh,” Dainty agreed.

“Now you notify de case of yo’ husbunt tryin’ to make a goat of hisse’f an’ butt down all de timber in de yard. I feels like I oughter tell you dat dat nigger is plum’ full of guile. Right dis minute, he’s figgerin’ to fall in de bayou an’ come to de house all wet, an’ say de bull done butted him, an’ ax fer a leetle drap.”

“Am--_dat_--so?” Dainty inquired with popping eyes.

“Yes’m,” Hitch assured her. “Of co’se, a man in my perfesh don’t harmonize wis no sech plans like dat. Hit’s a sin ag’in’ de conscience.”

Dainty stood up and laid her hand upon the handle of the jug.

“I’s gwine put dis jug back in de storeroom. Dude don’t git none. He is a fraudful nigger!” She set the jug on the top of the trunk, locked the storeroom, and went to the kitchen.

Hitch heard her chopping kindling wood and rattling the stove-lids. He heard the roar of the fire as the flame from the rich pine-knots soared up the chimney.

Ten minutes later Dainty entered and sat down with Hitch again, her eyes gleaming with wifely resolution.

“Dar he comes now!” Hitch snickered, pointing through the window. “Look at him--wet as a b’iled owl an’ walkin’ lame in bofe behime legs like a stringhalt mule. Lawd, Lawd!”