McDonald found the negroes at work again, he went tiptoeing about with a "did-you-see-it-too" expression.
Two hundred laborers were paid every night, but the Hot Cat failed to gather in their shekels. A hitch had developed somewhere, the sparker wouldn't spark, the starter wouldn't start. Some days the catfish enterprise barely earned its grease, while hungry negroes clung, tight-fistedly, to their piasters. Vainly did Zack put on his white cap and ring the bell. "Hot cat's fine to-day. Step up, niggers. Tell 'em dat, Side."
No such invitation reached the Shilluks through Said or Tombi. To the contrary Tombi pleaded with his people, only six days more until each should possess a jewel. They shuffled their irresolute feet, and with ravenous eyes devoured his crisp brown fish. But nobody bought.
"What ails you niggers?" Zack burst out. "Ef you don't aim to buy dis catfish, I'm gwine to shet up shop. Tell 'em dat, Side."
This message went and returned in brilliant flashes. Thus answered Said: "The Effendi is wise. No people buy fish. Shut up the bazaar. It is well."
"All right, Side, I sho' ain't gwine to beg no nigger what walks de earth." With that he took a dishpan of succulent fish and tossed it into the
