J. Poindexter, Colored Part 14

"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 c.u.min'

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 h.e.l.l-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 b.a.l.l.s 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 G.o.d's sake," he begs, "don't shoot! For G.o.d'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 G.o.d'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.

FOOTNOTE:

[4] Note.--The word is believed to be one of Jeff's own coinage. It is left as written. Its meaning may be doubtful but who will deny that it is a good word?

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 j.a.panee 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 doc.u.ment 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 s.h.i.+vering 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 grat.i.tude.

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 appet.i.te 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 wa.s.sail 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 pa.s.sil of 'em wid the chronic failin' of bein' onreliable in the haid. I 'spects you'll want to use 'at pistol sh.o.r.e-'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 sh.o.r.e 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'