He explained
this to the Persimmon, and tacked on a curious, "Why?"
"Oh, nothin'; nothin' 'tall. Ever'body say you a mighty long-haided
nigger. Jim Pink he tell us 'bout Tump Pack marchin' you 'roun' wid a
gun. I sho don' want you ever git mad at me, Mister Siner. Man wid a gun
an' you turn yo' long haid on him an' blow him away wid a wad o' women's
clo'es. I sho don' want you ever cross yo' fingers at me, Mister Siner."
Peter stared at the grotesque, bullet-headed roustabout. "Persimmon," he
said uneasily, "what in the world are you talking about?"
The Persimmon smiled a sickly, white-toothed smile. "Jim Pink say yo'
aidjucation is a flivver. I say, 'Jim Pink, no nigger don' go off an'
study fo' yeahs in college whut 'n he comes back an' kin throw some kin'
uv a hoodoo over us fool niggers whut ain't got no brains. Now, Tump wid
a gun, an' you wid jes ordina'y women's clo'es! 'Fo' Gawd, aidjucation
is a great thing; sho is a great thing." The Persimmon gave Peter an
apprehensive wink and moved on.
There was no use trying to extract information from the Persimmon unless
he was minded to give it.
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