“I leaves on de midnight train fer N’Awleens, an’ I stays dar till I gits dis money well spent. I’ll see de nigger shows, ride on all de street-cars, eat hot roasted peanuts, travel up ’n’ down on de yellervators, chaw beefsteak two inches thick, an’ buy me a derby hat an’ a suit of clothes wid so many colors dat when I walks up Canal Street de white folks will think de lightning done struck de rainbow!” “I’m going to buy a steamboat,” Nuhat said musingly. “Thirty feet long, eighteen feet wide, floating on top of the water like a cigar-box, propelled by a paddle-wheel about as big as a barrel, with a little donkey six-snort-power engine. It has a speed of six miles an hour down-stream, if the current is good. Going up-stream, it gets there when it can.” “Huh!” Skeeter grunted. “It costs two hundred dollars,” Nuhat continued. “I expect to live and die on that boat. I love to sit and think!” “Ain’t you gwine do nothing but think?” Skeeter asked, to whom such an occupation was utterly foreign and beyond his comprehension. “Yes—I’m going to turn honest. Everybody will know me as a good white man.” “White folks is diffunt from niggers in deir notions of havin’ fun,” Skeeter said meditatively. “Turnin’ honest an’ thinkin’ don’t look like a awful good time to me!” “I understand,” Nuhat replied. “A negro has a one-cylinder mind and a smoky spark-plug.” “But dat good time I plans don’t sep’rate me from mo’ dan fifty dollars of my money,” Skeeter proclaimed. “De rest goes todes startin’ me in de movie bizness. De nex’ time you steals a hoss an’ rides through Tickfall, you’ll see Skeeter in charge of a fust-rate nigger movin’-picture show.” When the midnight train arrived, Skeeter was on the platform, bidding good-by to Tickfall with a happy face. The news of his sudden rise to prosperity had spread with amazing rapidity through the colored portions of the town. No one knew the details, but all heard that the horse Skeeter bought had won a fortune at the races. Nine men were sorely distressed that they had treated Skeeter so shabbily and had disposed of their shares of the horse. Just as the train started, nine negroes came running across the station platform. Pap Curtain was waving two boxes of cigars, Figger Bush was wildly gesticulating with the horn of his “grassyphome,” and the others were holding out their hands with money. Conko Mukes ran along the station platform, clinging to the steps of the moving train, waving a ten-dollar bill, and speaking in pleading tones. “I wants to buy my share of dat hoss agin, Skeeter!” The train was gaining headway, and Skeeter leaned over, pretending he could not hear what was said. “I wants to buy my share of de hoss back!” Conko bellowed, for he had to run now to keep up with the moving train. Skeeter grasped the hand-rail on each side of him and kicked out with all the strength of his body.