The next morning Skeeter was kept busy explaining to his many patrons that he had been guilty of no offense and that Tella Tandy had played a trick on him to keep him from winning the twenty-five dollars. To Skeeter’s surprise, nobody believed him. “Naw, suh,” the reverend Vinegar Atts proclaimed, “you muss hab said somepin shameful to dat little gal. She wusn’t show-actin’ when she bust out cryin’ like dat.” “Dat’s de way I figger,” Hitch Diamond growled. “Ef you wus a’ innercent man, how come you didn’t stan’ yo’ ground’ an’ fight when dat Deo wus fixin’ to pound yo’ face in?” “I ain’t no fightin’ man,” Skeeter protested. “I’s a bizzness man. But I didn’t say nothin’ an’ I didn’t do nothin’--I wus discriminated agin by dem show folks!” “Aw, hush!” Pap Curtain exclaimed disgustedly. “I heerd whut you said to dat little gal an’ it wus plum’ insultin’.” “You better fetch dem same handcuffs back tonight, Skeeter,” Prince Total grinned. “Yo’ bes’ chance to insult dat lady is atter we nail Deo up in dat box.” “Aw, shut up!” Skeeter snapped. The men gradually talked themselves out and went away. Skeeter turned to his one friend and sympathizer, Figger Bush. “Figger,” he said, “I’s gwine git even wid dat pair of crooks or die. Is you willin’ to he’p me?” “Suttinly,” Figger agreed eagerly. “I think dem show folks done you powerful bad.” “We begins right now,” Skeeter announced, as he got up and went back to a rear room and came out with Tella’s Spitz dog. “Come out in front wid me, Figger,” Skeeter said, as he led the dog out of the door and stopped in the middle of the cinder sidewalk. “I want you to hold dis dawg for me.” “Whut you gwine do?” Figger inquired. “I’s gwine git back about fawty feet, take a little run, an’ kick dis dang dawg so fur dat de nex’ time he spits it’ll be in Arkansas!” Skeeter announced viciously. “I’s wid you!” Figger chuckled, as he spraddled his legs and grasped the Pomeranian by his bushy, silky tail. “Kick de goal!” Skeeter made a little run and almost kicked a hole in the sky. His right foot went up like he had hitched it to a star. For the little dog squatted and Skeeter missed him! Then the dog got busy. He snapped at Figger and Figger let go his tail. He sunk his sharp little teeth in the seat of Skeeter’s pantaloons and Skeeter went down the street at full speed, exhausting the treasuries of his throat to vocalize his fright. The dog held on until the seat of Skeeter’s trousers parted company with the rest of the garment and came away. Then the dog, well satisfied, trotted happily down the street, growling ferociously and stopping at intervals to shake the everlasting stuffing out of the piece of cloth which he had captured.