To Peter's inquiry what was the matter, the black fellow whirled and
blared out loudly, for the sake of his audience:
"'Fo' Gawd, nigger, I sho thought Mr. Bobbs had me!" and he writhed his
face into an idiotic grimace.
The audience reeled about in their mirth. Because with negroes, as with
white persons, two thirds of humor is in the reputation, and Jim Pink
was of prodigious repute.
Peter walked along with him patiently, because he knew that until they
were out of ear-shot of the crowd there was no way of getting a sensible
answer out of Jim Pink.
"Where are you going?" he asked presently.
"Thought I'd step over to Niggertown." Jim Pink's humorous air was still
upon him.
"What's doing over there? What were the boys raising such a hullabaloo
about?"
"Such me."
"Why did that boy go running across like that?"
Jim Pink rolled his eyes on Peter with a peculiar look.
"Reckon he mus' 'a' wanted to git on t'other side o' town."
Peter flattered the Punchinello by smiling a little.
"Come, Jim Pink, what do you know?" he asked.
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