Detraining at Tickfall, the deputy waited for Pap to get ahead of him. Pap, noticing his gesture, muttered in a far-away voice, as in a dream: “Comin’, white folks! I’s right at yo’ hip!” When Gaitskill, in response to a knock, opened the door of the Tickfall National Bank to admit them, he greeted the deputy in his strong, cordial voice, conducted the two back to his private office, and seated the sheriff and his prisoner in two comfortable chairs. “You brought him safe back, Sheriff,” Gaitskill smiled cordially, as he seated himself. “Take a cigar. Take two--here! Hold your pocket open!” He grabbed a handful of the cigars, slipped them carefully into the deputy’s pocket, and sat down again. Pap Curtain watched them like a trapped wolf, breathing in deep, audible gasps like a man choking. Gaitskill’s face was genial and humorous, his fine eyes twinkled, and he beamed upon Pap Curtain with a smile as cordial as sunshine. That smile sent the cold shivers up Pap’s spine, and made the hair bristle and crinkle with terror on the back of his neck. He had had dealings with Marse Tom before, and he knew that Marse Tom had no patience with a crooked, tricky nigger. “My Gawd!” Pap sighed. “Dat white man is gwine hang me shore!” Gaitskill pulled out a heavy purse, laid two yellow-backed bills on the table in front of the constable, and said: “There’s your pay, Bob. Much obliged for bringing my nigger back. I guess you want to run around town a little before you go back.” Bob grinned his appreciation, pocketed his money, and strode out. Gaitskill looked at Pap Curtain and broke out in a loud laugh. Great tears rolled down Pap Curtain’s face and splashed upon the hands folded in his lap, but Gaitskill took no notice. “Now, Pap,” Gaitskill grinned, “that was a great stunt you pulled off on me. What do you think I ought to do to you for it?” “Dunno, boss,” the negro quavered, leaning over and resting his teary face upon his hands. “How many of those niggers did you get?” “I didn’t git any, Marse Tom,” Pap declared, hoping to build up some sort of defense. “It wus dat fool Figger Bush an’ Prince Total whut succulated de repote!” There was a wild yell up the street and a rumble of wagon wheels. Gaitskill sprang up and walked to the front of the bank, where he could look through the window. Pap Curtain, trembling, horrified, followed Gaitskill because he was afraid to remain alone. Ten wagons passed the bank, the teams going in a fast trot, each wagon containing ten or twelve squalling blacks, who waved their hands at the bank as far as they could see it. Pap Curtain ducked behind the door and kept himself invisible--for each wagon contained a load of his victims! “That’s your work, Pap!” Gaitskill grinned, when the wagons had passed. “Yes, suh,” Pap answered in a weak, tearful, hopeless voice.