An unusual stir among the negroes on Hobbett's corner caught Peter's attention and broke into his chain of thought. Half a dozen negroes stood on the corner, staring down toward the white church. A black boy suddenly started running across the street, and disappeared among the stores on the other side. Peter caught glimpses of him among the wretched alleyways and vacant lots that lie east of Main Street. The boy was still running toward Niggertown. By this time Peter was just opposite the watchers on the corner. He lifted his voice and asked them the matter, but at the moment they began an excited talking, and no one heard him. Jim Pink Staggs jerked off his fur cap, made a gesture, contorted his long, black face into a caricature of fright, and came loping across the street, looking back over his shoulder, mimicking a run for life His mummery set his audience howling. The buffoon would have collided with Peter, but the mulatto caught Jim Pink by the arm and shoulder, brought him to a halt, and at the same time helped him keep his feet. To Peter's inquiry what was the matter, the black fellow whirled and blared out loudly, for the sake of his audience: "'Fo' Gawd, nigger, I sho thought Mr. Bobbs had me!" and he writhed his face into an idiotic grimace. The audience reeled about in their mirth. Because with negroes, as with white persons, two thirds of humor is in the reputation, and Jim Pink was of prodigious repute. Peter walked along with him patiently, because he knew that until they were out of ear-shot of the crowd there was no way of getting a sensible answer out of Jim Pink. "Where are you going?" he asked presently. "Thought I'd step over to Niggertown." Jim Pink's humorous air was still upon him. "What's doing over there? What were the boys raising such a hullabaloo about?" "Such me." "Why did that boy go running across like that?" Jim Pink rolled his eyes on Peter with a peculiar look. "Reckon he mus' 'a' wanted to git on t'other side o' town." Peter flattered the Punchinello by smiling a little. "Come, Jim Pink, what do you know?" he asked. The magician poked out his huge lips. "Mr. Bobbs turn acrost by de church, over de Big Hill. Da' 's always a ba-ad sign." Peter's brief interest in the matter flickered out. Another arrest for some niggerish peccadillo. The history of Niggertown was one long series of petty offenses, petty raids, and petty punishments. Peter would be glad to get well away from such a place. "Think I'll go North, Jim Pink," remarked Peter, chiefly to keep up a friendly conversation with his companion. "Whut-chu goin' to do up thaiuh?" "Take a position in a system of garages." "A position is a job wid a white color on it," defined the minstrel. "Whut you goin' to do wid Cissie?" Peter looked around at the foolish face. "With Cissie?--Cissie Dildine?" "Uh huh." "Why, what makes you think I'm going to do anything with Cissie?"