The crowd plunged into the store, surged to the rear and gathered in a tight circle around the prostrate form of Mustard Prophet. He was still asleep! III THE SLEEPER WAKES. A number of eager feet kicked Mustard Prophet into wakefulness. As many willing hands assisted him to his feet. He stood among them, glaring owlishly, blinded by the light, confused by the noise, frightened by the unaccountable presence of most of the male inhabitants of Tickfall. “’Scuse me, white folks,” he began. “I shore is befuddled-up by all dis here gwines-on. Marse Tom say fer me not to let nobody in dis here sto’-house.” “Where’s that money?” a voice demanded. “Which?” Mustard asked. “Where’s that money you and the white man got?” “I ain’t got no money, white folks,” Mustard declared. “You-all ax Marse Tom! An’ Marse Tom say me not to let nobody in dis sto’--” “Aw, come off!” another voice exclaimed. “You ain’t been sleeping through all this racket. Tell us where the bag of money is!” “Befo’ Gawd, white folks!” Mustard replied. “I ain’t got no bag of nothin’.” Then Mustard saw Colonel Gaitskill. “Bless gracious, Marse Tom!” he pleaded. “Come here and fotch me away from dese pesticatin’ white gemmans. Dey examinates me ’bout money like I done sold all de Nigger-Heel cotton ’thout turnin’ in de tickets--” Colonel Gaitskill whispered to Flournoy. “Put him in jail, John, and after the crowd disperses, we’ll slip around there and talk to him.” Flournoy promptly acted upon this suggestion, and on the way picked up Pap Curtain, now restored to consciousness--Dr. Shuttle had had better luck with Pap--and incarcerated them both. The crowd followed and watched the sheriff until he locked the two negroes behind the bars. “Nothing more doing to-night, friends,” he announced in his drawly voice. “We’ll all go to bed and discuss the matter to-morrow. Good-night.” He walked down the street toward his home. The crowd gathered in little groups, talked for a few minutes and dissolved. Colonel Gaitskill returned to the store, issued orders to his clerks concerning the disposition of the Skull’s body, and went home. Just at daybreak Sunday morning, Gaitskill and Flournoy, after another fruitless search for the lost money, entered the jail. They found Mustard and Pap Curtain sitting side by side, steeped in deepest gloom. Gaitskill became the spokesman: “Where were you all last night, Mustard?” “I wus in de sto’-house, Marse Tom. I didn’t leave dat place a minute till de white folks tuck me to jail.” “What did you do after I left?” “At de fust offstartin’, I et.” “What did you eat?” Gaitskill asked, wondering what food could produce slumber as profound as Mustard seemed to have experienced. “I et two cans of sawdines, an’ a can of devilish ham, an’ a hunk of cheese.” “What else?” “I et some crackers an’ some beelony sausage, an’ two awanges, an’ fo’ bananers, an’ a box of candy.” “What else?”