Village books

He made a place on the seat for his
friend to sit. "You don't mean you put up your medal on a crap game,
Tump?"
"Sho do, black man." Pack became soberer. "Dat's one o' de great
benefits o' bein' dec'rated. Dey ain't a son uv a gun on de river whut
kin win lil Joe; dey all tried it."
A moment's reflection told Peter how simple and natural it was for Pack
to prize his military medal as a good-luck piece to be used as a last
resort in crap games. He watched Tump stroke the face of his medal with
his fingers.
"My mother wrote me; about your getting it, Tump. I was glad to hear
it."
The brown man nodded, and stared down at the bit of gold on his barrel-
like chest.
"Yas-suh, dat 'uz guv to me fuh bravery. You know whut a skeery lil
nigger I wuz roun' Hooker's Ben'; well, de sahgeant tuk me an' he drill
ever' bit o' dat right out 'n me. He gimme a baynit an' learned me to
stob dummies wid it over at Camp Oglethorpe, ontil he felt lak I had de
heart to stob anything; 'n' 'en he sont me acrost. I had to git a new
pair breeches ever' three weeks, I growed so fas'.


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