chair, he rose and rambled thitherward: "Good evenin', Mister Bim."
"Good afternoon, Zack."
"Mister Bim," he announced, "I'm fixin' to open up a Hot Cat Eatin' House. Dat sho' will start niggers to work."
McDonald considered this seriously as if Zack had advanced the theory that red pepper would start negroes to sneezing. Although anxious, McDonald was not hasty, so he inquired, "What is a Hot Cat Eating House?"
Zack smiled tolerantly as he settled himself on the top step. "You see, Mister Bim, it's jes' dis way: Dese niggers won't work 'cause dey don't need nothin'. Ef dey wanted sumpin' reel bad, dey'd hustle fer it. I kin set 'em to hoppin' in dat fiel' thicker'n fleas on a fat pup. I don't promise nothin' what I can't do. You ax de Cunnel."
McDonald sprang up. "Yes, yes—you've hit it—they have no needs. That's what Colonel Spottiswoode says—exactly in line with the Von Gaben theory. I'll get Von Gaben's book."
Twice the screen door slammed, and McDonald reappeared with his fingers between the leaves of a book. "I had that place marked. Listen"
While old Zack hearkened to and assimilated the wisdom of that German scientist, he looked
