Argosy All-Story Weekly, October 6, 1923 — page 91: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE HEAD CHOPPER. them and every man began scratching a hole in the sand with his hands. Dropping down into this hole, he covered his body up to his neck, and remained there, waiting for his clothes to dry. They presented a curi- ous sight, nothing visible but their heads, looking like something out of the side show at a circus. To this extreme had necessity reduced them. When, an hour later, they were dressed and ready to return to Tickfall, a man emerged from the willows near the river bank and advanced rapidly toward them. He was small in stature, wonderfully round and fat, with two little piglike eyes gleaming selfishly in his moon shaped face, and over his strong white teeth there played con- stantly a slick, oily, good-natured smile. Under his arm he carried a large, heavy, clumsv book. ‘““ Bless Gawd, fellers!”? he exclaimed in oily intonations, as he stopped, placed his cumbersome volume upon the sand at his feet and mopped the perspiration from his face with the sleeve of his coat. ‘“ I’s pow- erful glad to meet up wid you-alls. Dis here Mississippi is a gosh-awful lonesome river, My name is Jim Golly.” ‘‘Glad to meet yo’ ’quaintance,” Figger Bush announced, eying him curiously. ‘““Whut did you say yo’ bizzness mought bec. “T ain’t said up to yit,”’ Jim Golly an- swered with his fat, slick smile. ‘ But I ain’t tryin’ to hide nothin’ from nobody. I’m got a book.” He slipped the toe of his patent leather shoe between the pages of the volume and thrust the book open. The negroes looked down upon the pages of a tailor’s book of clothing samples. Selecting the material from these samples, many men order their suits of clothes from agents and have the garments made up in the large tailoring es- tablishments of some city. ““T sells clothes!” Jim Golly proclaimed. ‘‘ You done made a water haul befo’ you wets yo’ seine, Brudder Golly,” Pap Cur- tain snarled. ‘“ Ef whole suits wus two-bits per each, all three of us niggers couldn’t buy one of dem scrap rags outen dat book!” ‘* Dat’s too bad,” Jim Golly sympathized. “Tm sorry vou is all so awful onfinancial.” 8735 “Yes, suh, we is,” Figger Bush assured him. “Each of us is deducted down to de clothes we is got on us now.” “How come?” Jim Golly asked. “ Times ’pears like is harder dan dey ever is been,” they told him. “But, it ‘pears to me like you oughter hab some ole clothes to wear, excusin’ de suits,” Jim protested. ““T had bad luck wid my one good suit,” Shin Bone mourned. “I wus pressin’ my pants wid a hot iron, an’ a nigger frien’ axed me out to hab a little dram of cawn shuck licker, an’ I lef’ de hot iron settin’ on my pants an’ burnt de leg off.”’ “T had wusser luck dan dat,” Figger Bush sighed. ‘I went courtin’ anodder nigger man’s wife. I didn’t know she wus married at de time, because she didn’t make no mention of a husbunt parked somewhar, but I found it out a plenty when her hus- bunt showed up. Dat coon wus plum’ onreasonable. He shot at me five times an’ throwed rocks half an hour an’ cussed scan- d’‘lous. He oughter been churched! | jumped a bob wire fence an’ didn’t jump high enough an’ wus lef’ a bobtail wreck! I felt like dat dyin’ man when de dorctor tole him dat his end wus in sight.” “Huh!” Pap Curtain grunted. “TI had de wussest luck of all. I wus coonin’ a log acrost de Dorfoche Bayou dressed wid my best suit on, gwine to a lodge fun’ral. Fell offen dat log an’ wet my clothes. I wanted to dry ’em real quick so I could mosey on to de buryin’, so I hung ’em on a low lim’ of a tree an’ built a fire under em. I drapped off to sleep an’ when I woked up, two arms of my coat wus hangin’ on de lim’, an’ two legs of my pants wus hangin’ beside ’em, but all de rest wus plum’ burnt away. I laid off in de woods all day an’ snuck home to my cabin at night in my shirt-tail.” “T’m proud you-all is so teetotally outen clothes,” Jim Golly laughed. ‘I’m sellin’ suits an’ you buys one offen me.” “Ef our credick is good, I’ll shore buy me a whole trooso,” Figger Bush assured him. ‘IT moves we amend our motion an’ git gwine to’des Tickfall,” Jim suggested. “ Ill explain my bizzness as we mopes along an’ COMmiclooe S ©