“About three weeks ago, ole Popsy Spout went out to yo’ house to spend de day. When he got back, he come in here an’ et, an’ he lef’ dis green box on de eatin’ table. He explavicated about it a little bit an’ said it b’longed to you!” Mustard turned around with the righteous fury of Michel the archangel contending with the devil to “bring against him a railing accusation”—but, alas, Popsy had taken a hint from Skeeter’s recumbent attitude, and was stretched out upon a dining-table sound asleep. The unexpected duplication of the rabbit-feet and the two boxes had the effect of relieving Skeeter’s pretended injuries to the extent that he was able to travel a little farther. “Take me home, Mustard,” he wailed. “Lemme die at home in my own little cabin whut Marse John gib to me.” Mustard quickly understood that what Skeeter really wanted was to get to some place where he could talk about the new complication in the matter of luck charms. He lifted Skeeter in his arms and carried him back to the wagon, leaving Popsy asleep upon the table, and leaving Dazzle and Hopey to find their own conveyance to their house in their own feet. When Mustard and Skeeter had closed the door upon their conference in Skeeter’s cabin, Mustard laid the rabbit-foot on Skeeter’s knee. “You got to take it back, brudder,” he said earnestly. “’Twon’t do fer us folks to steal Marse Tom’s rabbit-foot. Us is got to ack hones’.” “Mebbe so,” Skeeter said doubtfully. “But fur’s I’m concerned, Marse Tom kin hop along widout dis foot.” “It cain’t be did, Skeeter. You got to take it back.” “I done been hurt in a automobile bust-up,” Skeeter protested. “I ain’t able to git about. De dorctor will come here in a little while an’ examinate me fer cote-house damages on account my many injuries.” “I makes dis trade wid you,” Mustard replied. “You’s got fifty dollars of my money dat you ain’t earnt because you didn’t recover my lucky foot. I’ll gib you dat fifty to tote dis foot back.” “I got you,” Skeeter answered promptly. “When do I tote her back?” “To-morrer night,” Mustard told him. “Marse Tom is gibin’ a big dinner at his house an’ you kin slip in de house while dey is eatin’.” “I’ll do it,” Skeeter promised. “But dis is de last thing I’s gwine do fer you as long as I live. No more detecative stealin’ jobs fer me!” XVII LUCK AND LOVE The next day, being Sunday and a dull day, Skeeter found it both convenient and comfortable to remain in bed and pretend to be severely injured by his automobile accident. He planned to spend the day in bed, and slip out at night and carry the rabbit-foot back to the dresser-drawer in Miss Virginia’s room. But about ten o’clock the road commissioner called upon Skeeter, expressed his great regret at the automobile accident and told Skeeter he had come to settle for the damage that had been done.