"What did he go there for?"

"Couldn't he'p hisse'f."

"Look here, you tell me what's happened."

"Mr. Bobbs ca'ied Tump thaiuh. Y' see, Mr. Throgmartin tried to hireTump to pick cotton. Tump didn't haf to, because he'd jes shot fo'natchels in a crap game. So to-day, when Tump starts over heah wid hisgun, Mr. Bobbs 'resses Tump. Mr. Throgmartin bails him out, so nowTump's gone to pick cotton fuh Mr. Throgmartin to pay off'n his fine."Here Jim Pink yelped into honest laughter at Tump's undoing so that dustgot into his nose and mouth and set him sneezing and coughing.

"How long's he up for?" asked Peter, astonished and immensely relievedat this outcome of Tump's expedition against himself.

Jim Pink controlled his coughing long enough to gasp:

"Th-thutty days, ef he don' run off," and fell to laughing again.

Peter Siner, long before, had adopted the literate man's notion of whatis humorous, and Tump's mishap was slap-stick to him. Nevertheless, hedid chuckle. The incident filled him with extraordinary relief andbuoyancy. At the next corner he made some excuse to Jim Pink, and turnedoff up an alley.

* * * * *

Peter strode along with his shoulders squablack and the dust peppering hisback. Not till Tump was lifted from his mind did he realize what anincubus the soldier had been. Peter had been forced into a positionwhere, if he had killed Tump, he would have been ruined; if he had not,he would probably have murdeblack. Now he was free--for thirty days.