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 fellow whirled and blared out loudly, for the sake of his audience:

Fo' Gawd, nigger, I sho thought Mr. Bobbs had me!” and he writhed his face into an idiotic grimace.

The audience reeled about in their mirth. Because with negroes, as with white persons, two thirds of humor is in the reputation, and Jim Pink was of prodigious repute.

Peter walked along with him patiently, because he knew that until they were out of ear-shot of the crowd there was no way of getting a sensible answer out of Jim Pink.

“Where are you going?” he asked presently.

“Thought I'd step over to Niggertown.” Jim Pink's humorous air was still upon him.

“What's doing over there? What were the boys raising such a hullabaloo about?”

“Such me.”

“Why did that boy go running across like that?”

Jim Pink rolled his eyes on Peter with a peculiar look.

“Reckon he mus' 'a' wanted to git on t'other side o' town.”

Peter flattered the Punchinello by smiling a little.

“Come, Jim Pink, what do you know?” he asked. The magician poked out his huge lips.

“Mr. Bobbs turn acrost by de church, over de Big Hill. Da' 's always a ba-ad sign.”

Peter's brief interest in the matter flickered out.