Chapter III: Safety First

On his way to keep his engagement with Limit Lark under the tree behind the Shoofly church, Tick Hush had to pass the Hen-Scratch saloon. When he reached the door he walked in.

“I helt up a minute fer a few last advices, Skeeter,” he said nervously as he fumbled with his hat and panted like a tired dog.

“Whut ails you now?” Skeeter demanded.

“Ef dat woman meets me under dat tree, whut muss I say to her?” Tick inquired.

“Ax her did she git yo’ letter,” Skeeter suggested.

“She won’t be dar ef she don’t git de letter,” Tick protested.

“Suttinly,” Skeeter agreed, “but dat will make talk an’ it’s a good way to begin.”

“Whut muss I say atter dat?” Tick asked helplessly.

“Ax her will she marry you,” Skeeter said.

“Ef she say she will, whut muss I do next?” Tick wanted to know.

“Grab her!” Skeeter cackled. “Swing onto her like a cockle-bur to a woolly dawg’s y-ear!”

“Dat sounds easy!” Tick remarked, in a tone which indicated that he considered the task attended by both difficulty and danger. “I shore hopes I don’t make no miscue!”

“You cain’t make no mistake,” Skeeter grinned. “Womens likes to be hugged. I knows--I done tried it a millyum times. Dat’s yo’ one safe bet!”

“All right!” Tick remarked in a tone indicating that it was all wrong, and he rose reluctantly to his feet. “I’ll try to make de riffle--but you listen out, Skeeter! Ef you hear any real loud hollerin’ up de Shoofly way, you’ll know it’s me! I got a hunch dat de grabbin’ will be on de yuther foot--dat nigger woman is gwine grab me!”

“Dat’ll be best of all,” Skeeter said, with a knowing grin. “Ef she do de grabbin’, dat means you is shore kotch--pervidin’ she don’t bite an’ scratch at de same time.”

Tick slowly retreated from the room, and Skeeter promptly reached for his own hat and started in the same direction.

“Dat po’ fool nigger mought need a little back-up-ance,” said Skeeter, grinning to himself.

In the shadow of the Shoofly church Tick Hush waited, his anxious eyes fixed upon a bench under a sycamore tree where he was to meet and make the final matrimonial arrangements with Limit Lark.

Sometimes there comes out of the swamp into Tickfall a negro so simple that his life has consisted of eating, sleeping, and working. Having lived far from civilization, his innocence and ignorance are amazing. He is a joy to the planter, for he works hard and does just as he is told to do. Coming into contact with the negro social life of Tickfall, he is also a joy to his colored friends--he contributes so largely to the funny side of life.

Skeeter knew that Tick Hush was sure to contribute much to the gaiety of the negro inhabitants of Tickfall, and he had already tipped off his friends to be ready to help him when he needed them.

So Tick waited at the church, peering across the yard in the dim light of a young moon, feeling more nervous and panicky as the moments passed, repeating with dry lips the instructions of Skeeter Butts:

“Ax her did she git de letter--ax her to marry me--grab her!”

Then a sudden weakness overcame him and he sat down upon the ground so forcibly that he nearly jarred his head loose from the rest of his anatomy.

“Gosh!” he murmured.

A woman dressed in white had moved quickly across the churchyard and had seated herself upon the bench under the sycamore tree. Tick experienced about the same sensation that might come to a war spy backed up against a church wall and facing a firing squad. Tick knew he was facing his fate.

“I guess I’m got to make de riffle,” he sighed as he started slowly across the churchyard.

The woman saw him and stood up.

“Hello, Limit!” Tick began. “Did you git my letter?”

“Yes, suh,” the girl giggled.

She was a tall, neatly dressed woman, with typical African features and skin as black as coal. In the dim moonlight she began to look good to the embarrassed Tick Hush.

Tick felt his courage oozing away, so he began to speak in a loud voice:

“Is you gwine marry me?” he howled.

“Hush!” Limit whispered. “Some nigger woman is comin’ dis way--she mought hear us!”

The two sat down on the bench and waited.

The second woman came up confidently, jauntily.

She was a square-headed, woolly-haired, pout-lipped negro, with a short temper and a long tongue.

It was Vakey Vapp.

Tick Hush gazed at her in horror. Already he could hear himself squalling to Skeeter Butts to come and rescue him from the wrath of these two women.

“Hello, Ticky,” Vakey said easily. “I got yo’ letter all right an’ I got here as quick as I could. Dat Gaitskill plantation looks good to me. I favors ownin’ it right now!”

“Hold on, cullud folks!” Tick begged. “Don’t shove me along so peart. You got to start me slow an’ gimme time. S’pose you-alls sets here a minute an’ converse yo’se’ves, an’ lemme go git Skeeter Butts.”

“Whut you need wid Skeeter?” Limit Lark inquired.

“Eh--uh--oh, Lawdy, I needs him bad--Skeeter’s pretty handy to hab aroun’. I needs him fer comp’ny--social puppuses--gosh!”

“Whut’s pesterin’ yo’ mind, Tick?” Vakey snapped. “You ain’t actin’ plum honest about somepin!”

“Yes’m--dat’s a fack--er--I speck I better git gwine!” Tick moaned.

“Not yit, Ticky!” Limit Lark said sharply. “I done walked pretty fur to dis place an’ I wants my permittune to marry you right now. Is you gwine hitch up wid me?”

“Honey,” Tick said desperately, “I don’t like to say nothin’ ’bout dat befo’ comp’ny--less git off alone by ourse’ves fust!”

“How’s dat?” Vakey snapped. “Whut you sayin’, Ticky? Is you figgerin’ on marryin’ dis here Limit nigger?”

“No’m,” Tick began, “I ain’t really especkin’ to----”

“Whut you say, nigger man?” Limit howled, laying a firm and competent hand upon Tick’s coat collar. “Talk straight, Ticky! An’ don’t you fergit dat I always totes a mighty hard fist fer social pupposes!”

She thrust a big clenched hand under Tick’s nose, and Tick whistled through his nostrils like a mustang smelling a bear.

“I totes a big gun fer social pupposes!” Vakey Vapp announced in a raucous voice as she thrust her right hand into the folds of her ragged dress.

Then Tick squalled and bolted. But he did not get very far. Limit and Vakey pooled their interests. They laid hold upon the struggling colored man, fought with him across the yard, and backed him up against the church, a terrified chunk of cringing flesh.

“Now, Ticky,” Vakey proclaimed as she flourished her big pistol before Tick’s frightened face, “me an’ Limit is gwine straighten you out flat. You cain’t fool no ole ginny-hens like us--so you better tell de Gawd’s truth.”

“Yes’m,” Tick stuttered.

“Did you write dis letter to me?” Vakey howled, shaking a soiled envelope under Tick’s nose.

“Yes’m,” Tick stuttered.

“Did you write dis here letter to me?” Limit whooped, waving another soiled envelope before his face.

“Yes’m,” Tick chattered.

“How come?” the two whooped in irate tones.

Vakey’s right hand was waving a pistol with what seemed to Tick to be extreme carelessness. He was sure he was going to be killed, and he lifted his terrified eyes for one startled look at the white tombstones which stood in the graveyard beside the church.

Then the only inspiration he had ever had came to him in a flash.

“My Gawd!” he whooped, and his face and voice were certainly expressive of terror, an alarm he had been feeling for ten minutes. “My Gawd! Look over yander at that graveyard!”

The two women turned to look with startled suddenness.

It was quite an artful ruse for a slow wit like Tick Hush. He had not seen a thing, but as the women turned Tick took the first step in his getaway.

Then a fortuitous circumstance contributed to Tick’s escape.

Skeeter Butts had concealed himself on the far side of the churchyard near to the cemetery fence in order to command a large view of the locality near the sycamore tree where Tick was to meet the two women.

Skeeter was afraid of that graveyard. He did not like to lie down so near to it. For ten minutes the cold shivers had been chasing up and down his spine, and he earnestly desired to be anywhere but where he was.

As soon as he heard Tick’s horrified exclamation he felt like he must leave the vicinity of the burying-ground at once. He arose to depart, and thus it happened that it was Skeeter dressed in a ghostly white duck suit, that the two negro women saw!

Vakey Vapp raised the pistol which she kept for social purposes and fired five shots in rapid succession at Skeeter Butts. For the first time in his adventurous life Skeeter went through a graveyard at night alone!

Tick Hush went to Tickfall, running about one hundred yards in advance of the two women, and the trio made as much noise as a calliope played by a maniac with a hundred fingers!