“Then you bring your dominant will to bear upon the subject’s subconscious mind, willing him to sleep--to stand upright and sleep----” “Dat sounds easy,” Conko grinned. “Do you think you could do that?” Zodono inquired. “Suttinly. Dat is--mebbe so. I’d shore like to try it one time befo’ I hypnertized dat fightin’ coon----” “All right. I’ll let you try it on a white man. If you can hypnotize a white man, you can certainly come it over on a nigger. We’ll try it on Bill.” Zodono turned and glanced at his assistant. That glance was like the stroke of a whip-lash, and Bill quailed and flinched, the grin faded from his face, and the flush changed to a deadly pallor. “Now, Conko,” Zodono commanded. “Walk right up to Bill. Look straight into his eyes.” Bill stood like a rag doll, or anything else you can think of which is spineless and helpless and non-resistant. Conko walked up and glared into Bill’s listless, humid eyes like a monstrous, bloodthirsty gorilla eying a wax dummy. Bill did not see the negro, for unknown to Conko, the tall form of Zodono stood just behind him, and the professor’s eyes held the hypnotic as a snake charms a bird. “Now,” Zodono commanded in sharp tones to the darky, “make a stroking motion before his face--slow--slow--slow. Now bring your will to bear upon his subconscious mind--that’s it. Sleep--sleep--sleep--ah!” With a horrified expression upon his face, Conko stood staring at the face of the man before him. The hypnotic slowly teetered forward and backward, threatening with each swaying movement to lose his balance and tumble over. “Catch him!” Zodono commanded sharply. Conko sprang forward and eased the falling man to the floor. “My Gawd!” a strange negro voice exclaimed. “Did anybody ever see de beat of dat?” Professor Zodono wheeled and stared at the frightened face of a large, full-bosomed, golden-brown girl, whose long, straight, black hair clung around her face, by contrast making her octoroon complexion almost white. Her bold, black eyes were big with wonder and awe, and the hands clasped over her bosom were trembling. “What do you want?” Zodono snapped. “I come fer de washin’,” the girl stammered; “but I wants to git outen here real prompt.” “Don’t be afraid,” the professor said, as he walked over to a table where a pile of soiled curtains were stacked. “That man is not dead; just sleeping.” The girl backed around behind Zodono and peeped at Conko. “Kin dat nigger wake dat white man up?” she asked. “Yes,” Zodono answered. Then he called to Mukes: “Wake him up, Conko!” Conko leaned over, shook Bill by the shoulder, and bellowed: “Git up, Mr. Bill! De bossman say fer you to git up!” But Bill slept on. Zodono laughed. “Bring your dominant mind to bear upon his subjective consciousness, Conko,” he grinned. Conko grabbed Bill on each side of his face, glared into his eyes, and howled: “Hey, Bill; git up! Don’t you hear me tellin’ you? Wake up!”