“De fust time I ever saw anybody go up in de air wus at a county fair. Dar wus a balloon tied on de end of a rope, an’ a white man wus in charge, and he let eve’ybody whut had a dollar go up in de air as fur as de rope went.” “How many foots could you go up?” Vinegar inquired. “One thousand foots,” Red Cutt informed him. “Dat is as fur as de rope stretched. Of co’se if de rope broke, I imagines a nigger might hab went a heap farther, but dey wouldn’t charged him nothin’ fer dat extry trip.” “An’ did you go up in it?” Hitch Diamond asked. “Naw, I didn’t hab no dollar; but I made up my mind right dar dat some day I wus gwine up.” Skeeter Butts joined the company at this point, sat down and lighted a cigarette, leaned back and asked with great nonchalance: “How long has you been tryin’ to fly, Brudder Red Cutt?” “I been at it for the last ’leven or twelve months. Is you had any expe’unce flyin’?” “Naw, suh, I ain’t had much to speak about,” Skeeter Butts replied. “Of co’se, I took a few little flies when I wus in de army, but I didn’t run de machine myself, an’ I don’t know very much about it.” “I’m glad to hear you say dat, Skeeter,” Red Cutt responded. “You see, my bizzness jes’ now is travelin’ through de country teachin’ cullud folks how to fly dese machines. De gover’ment of the Nunited States is makin’ about a million of dese airships eve’y week. As soon as de war is over dey won’t have no need for dem airships in de Europe war, an’ dey will have about forty millions dat dey will want to sell cheap.” “Dat sounds good to me,” Skeeter Butts said in pleased anticipation. “I always has wanted one of dem things.” “Well, you kin git you one,” Red Cutt said. “A good hand-me-down airship—dis here gover’ment will be mighty nigh givin’ ’em away, because dey won’t have no whar to keep ’em atter de war is over.” “I’ll shore git me one,” Hitch Diamond said in a loud voice. Red Cutt looked at him and nodded his head approvingly. “I’ll git me one,” Vinegar Atts proclaimed. “Put me down for one, de best one you got,” Skeeter Butts announced. “I ain’t sellin’ ’em, nigger,” Red Cutt laughed. “I learns fellers how to fly in ’em. The gover’ment ain’t gwine deliver ’em to you. Dey will all be landed at de same place on de Gulf of Mexico, an’ eve’y nigger has got to go git his own an’ pick out of the bunch de one dat he wants.” “You means dat we got to fly our own machine home?” Skeeter Butts inquired. “Suttingly,” Red Cutt answered. “Gosh! I reckon we does need lessons in flyin’,” Vinegar Atts proclaimed. “One dollar, per lesson, each nigger,” Red Cutt announced in a businesslike tone. “How many niggers is allowed to learn at one time?” Skeeter inquired. “One hundred niggers. We organizes de High Exalted Nigger Flyin’ Club, and we all takes lessons at the same time.” “When is we gwine organize dis club?” Skeeter Butts inquired.