got paid off at Padjo [Paducah, Kentucky]; 'n 'en I thought I'd come on down heah an' roll some bones. Been hittin' 'em two days now, an' I sho come putty nigh bein' cleaned; but I put up lil Joe heah, an' won 'em all back, 'n 'en some.” He touched the medal on his coat, winked again, slapped Siner on the leg, and burst into loud laughter.
Peter was momentarily shocked. 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
