“Shore wus. But I didn’t stay dar no time. I lef’ dat chain-gang in fo’ days. Dat’s how come I ain’t so glad to see dis town agin,” Pap said. Then after a moment’s thought, he suggested: “I tells you how to do, Mustard. You take yo’ cawnet-hawn an’ go out an’ pick de town.” “Pick it?” “Stop on all de cornders, play ’em a toon, den pass de hat,” Pap explained. “I’ll set down here an’ res’ my mind till you gits a little money, an’ in de nex’ town we goes to I’ll do de pickin’.” So Mustard walked up the levee toward the town alone. In the Red Elephant saloon, he said to the bartender: “Mister, dese here white genmans need wakin’ up dis mawnin’. Lemme toot a toon or two?” “Crack away, nigger.” A few experimental strains issued from the cornet, followed by a high, piercing note; then Mustard started the music of a song everywhere dear to the heart of the Mississippi River negro: Oh, honey, when you hear dat roan mule whicker; When you see Mr. Sun turnin’ pale an’ gittin’ sicker Den it’s time fer to handle dis job a little quicker Ef you wanter git a smell of de boss-man’s jug of licker. Git up an’ move aroun’! Set dem han’s to swingin’ Befo’ de boss-man comes aroun’ a dangin’ an’ a dingin’. Git up an’ shout aloud! Let de white folks hear you singin’-- Hey! O--Hi--O! Hear dem voices ringin’! All the morning in various sections of the town Pap Curtain, hiding under the levee, could hear the strains of Mustard’s cornet. Just at noon, Mustard came back, walking slowly, his good-natured face burdened with grief and disappointment, his defeat and dejection revealed even by the dragging of his ponderous feet. “Whut ails you, Mustard?” Pap inquired solicitously. “I’m a son of sorrer, Pap,” Mustard wailed. “Nobody but de good Marster kin ’preciate what bad luck I’s had.” “Whut come to pass?” Pap inquired with interest. “At de fust offstartin’ I blowed my hawn in de Red El’phant till de white folks gimme a dollar, all in nickles and dimes. Den a white man follered me out when I lef’ an’ tole me ef I would loant him dat money he would show me how to make it disappear. “Of co’se, I loant it to him, an’ he put it in his pocket an’ said escuse him a minute, an’ he went away an’ I ain’t seed dat white man sence dat time.” Pap Curtain gazed at Mustard with an expression of mingled pity and disgust. Mustard continued his tale of woe: “Two white kunnels gimme fo’ bits apiece to play _Dixie_ fer ’em. I had dat money changed over to a paper dollar so it wouldn’t roll away like de yuther dollar done. Den anodder white man come along an’ say ef I gib him dat paper dollar he’d show me how to double it. “Of co’se, I needed it doubled right quick because I wus already behine one dollar, so I loant it to him to double it. He jes’ folded it over one time; den he shet one eye at me an’ stuck my dollar down in his pocket.” “Didn’t you ax him to give it back?” Curtain asked.