Old Reliable passed into darkness beneath the palms, took a long breath and a long backward look at the quarters. He had circled around from the rear, and could now see the front windows where lights came out, where Mr. Bim and the big-faced Mr. Lyttleton were snickering behind the Colonel's back. For of late the Colonel had been in a most unpleasant temper at the way things were going, a thought which Zack dismissed and smiled.
The loafers' bench at the Hot Cat offered an undeclinable invitation to sit down, and Zack accepted it—a solitary black figure in that banquet hall deserted.
"Huh!" he complained. "Dis sho is one lonesome place, wid all dem niggers gone over yonder whar dat drum's a beatin' at." Carefully Zack set down his precious box upon the bench beside him, and began fumbling with the lid. Said crawled closer, until he could hear his master say:
"I ain't gwine to do it—ain't gwine to do it."
When Zack lifted the lid of the box, and thrust in his hand, Said leaned forward and gasped, his fingers working like a strangler's. It was too dark to see, but Said could hear, and feel, and tremble, while the Black Effendi kept digging into his treasure, letting it drip through his fingers like sparkling drops that patter into a pool. Suddenly Zack jumped up and let fall a handful, as
