“Naw, suh, dat was a powerful brave-lookin’ man an’ he acted like he mought ’a’ fought a sawmill ef he wus peeved up.” “Mustard, you is a plum’, nachel-bawn, stark-naked fool,” Pap informed him. “I agrees wid dem sentiments,” Mustard said sorrowfully. “Lawdy, my foots shore hurts me scandalous. Lemme set down.” “Ain’t you got no money a-tall?” Pap inquired peevishly. “Naw,” Mustard informed him. “Is you had anything to eat?” “Naw,” Mustard lamented. “An’ I’s so hungry I could eat a houn’-dog biled in soap grease.” The two sat for a moment, looking out at the river. Then Mustard suggested: “You go out an’ try ’em a few toons, Pap. I axed eve’ybody I met ef dey knowed a nigger named you, an’ dey said dey didn’t.” V TROUBLE’S TWIN. All the afternoon Pap Curtain played trombone solos on the streets of Kerlerac while Mustard Prophet rested his feet. About four o’clock Mustard and Pap slipped into a negro eating-house and ordered food. “Whar you cullud pussons come from?” Smart Durret, the negro restaurant keeper, inquired as his patrons consumed large quantities of fried catfish. “We stays at Tickfall,” Mustard answered. “When did you-alls arrive down?” “We come dis mawnin’,” Pap responded. At this point another occupant of the restaurant rose from a table in one corner of the room, gesticulated mysteriously and forcibly to Smart Durret and went out of a rear door into the kitchen. The mulatto proprietor followed. “Don’t ax so many questions, Smart,” was the prompt advice of the little negro to the mulatto. “I wucks fer Sheriff Ulloa, an’ I heard tell dis mawnin’ dat somebody robbed a sto’ in Tickfall an’ dey’s offered a hunderd-dollar reward-bill fer who done it.” Smart Durret’s mud-colored eyes opened wide. “Dat sto’ was robbed Saddy night,” the little negro continued. “Dem two coons come to town dis mawnin’ early. Dey been takin’ turns hidin’ on de yuther side of de levee all day. Dem niggers is shore it.” “Is you gwine tell de sheriff, Solly?” the mulatto asked. “Naw,” Solly exclaimed in disgusted tones. “I figgers dat you an’ me kin kotch ’em out alone, arrest ’em ourse’ves an’ ’vide up de reward-bill even.” “Dat’s de music!” Smart exclaimed, admiringly. “You keep track of ’em an’ you an’ me’ll git togedder on it to-night.” Thus advised, Solly Saddler, amateur detective, shadowed Mustard Prophet and Pap Curtain all the afternoon and when darkness came was prepared to report their location to Smart Durret. “Now, Solly,” Smart advised, “we ain’t got no permit to ’rest dese niggers accawdin’ to de law. So I argufies dat de best way to do is to git in a fight wid ’em, sen’ somebody fer de cornstable, an’ let him tote us all to jail. Den we kin esplain to de sheriff whut we knows, an’ he’ll let us out because you’re a frien’ of his’n.”