Figger Bush sat with his knife-blade poised2 over the top of the pine table, trying to devise some new design to carve upon that piece of furniture. He showed his lack of interest in the league by replying:
“Dem Uplifters ain’t gwine lift me up. I’s a heavy-weight.”
“You always wus a sinker,” Skeeter smiled, as he watched Figger sketch3 the outline of an Indian face in the soft pine with his knife-point before beginning to carve. “You jes’ nachelly went down ever since I knowed you.”
“Dese Uplifters is uppity, biggity, high-brow niggers. Dey’s always jawin’ about high cullud sawciety, an’ who b’longs an’ who ain’t b’long. Dey ain’t black folks; dey’s play-like whites.”
“Dey’s actin’ an’ playin’ like niggers now,” Skeeter grinned. “Dey’s in a awful row ’bout who’s gwine be elected to de high-up offices of de Uplift. I never seed de beat of de politickin’ dey’s doin’.”
“Nobody ain’t politicked5 me yit,” Figger murmured, as his knife slowly moved through the soft pine. “I reckin votes ain’t fetchin’ so awful high price.”
“Dem Uplifters is gwine uplift de price befo’ de election is over,” Skeeter told him. “Ef I had a real loud voice an’ could holler an’ bawl6 an’ whoop7, I’d run fer presidunt of de league myself.”
“You jes’ fergit dem notions off yo’ mind,” Figger growled8. “I ain’t aimin’ to keep dis saloon an’ do all de odd jobs while you yelps9 aroun’ like a kicked dawg about whut oughter be done fer de poor, oppressed cullud race.”
“But de Uplifters is done fergot de po’, oppressed cullud niggers an’ is thinkin’ up cuss names to call each yuther wid,” Skeeter explained. “Some Uplifters ain’t in favor of de way de yuther uplifts is liftin’, an’ dey’s tryin’ to git good riddunce of Mustard Prophet an’ put Pap Curtain in his place as presidunt.”
“Pap Curtain is a slick-head nigger,” Figger growled. “He’s heap mo’ crookeder dan a dawg’s hind10 leg. Nobody cain’t never git Pap straight.”
“Dat’s de kind of man to git elected,” Skeeter snickered. “It’ll take a slick-head to beat Mustard.”
“You real shore dey ain’t gwine run you fer presidunt?” Figger asked suspiciously.
“Dey ain’t got no notion of dat kind,” Skeeter replied. “Dey don’t see me at all. Dis here is gwine be a real election an’ it takes a loud speecher to git votes. My voice is too squeaky an’ my size is ag’in’ me. A little runt like me wid a screech-owl voice couldn’t git elected as free-meat man in a dawg town.”
“I’s glad you’s so modest, Skeeter,” his friend grinned. “My idear is dat dis saloon is gwine be de chiefest headquarters of bofe sides of de Uplifters. We’ll rake in a heap of dollars by bein’ puffeckly neuter in dis race. Ef we takes sides, we loses money.”
“Dat’s so,” Skeeter agreed. “But I heerd Pap Curtain talkin’ down in Dirty-Six an’ Pap got de right notion. He says dat we need new blood in de Uplift League. He says dem officers whut’s got de honors now jes’ holds deir jobs an’ don’t do nothin’. He says our race is sinkin’ down because dem Uplifters ain’t liftin’ up. He says dat de pusson who will git charge of dat league an’ make it active an’ yellervate de race will be Tickfall’s most leadin’ cullud sitson.”
“I wouldn’t objeck to bein’ de leadin’ member of de Tickfall blacks,” Figger sighed. “But I’s like you—I ain’t got de voice. I’s got de heft on you, but I don’t weigh as much as Hitch11 Diamond or Vinegar Atts, an’ ef weight an’ voice is gwine win out, Ginny Babe Chew is got us all beat a mile.”
“Uhuh!” Figger grunted13. “Dat means dat eve’y Uplifter in de league is gwine have a rep onless dey votes fer her. Dat ole woman knows all de sins all de niggers in Tickfall is cormitted. She tells ’em, too. An’ when it comes to callin’ cuss-names, all us is new beginners to Ginny Babe. Dat gal’s had expe’unce.”
“I ain’t gwine mess wid it, Figger,” Skeeter said, as he thought uneasily of the things Ginny might tell about him. “I don’t want my rep ruint by Ginny Babe. Us’ll bofe be neuter an’ keep dis saloon.”
At that moment the door of the saloon was pushed open and a diminutive14 darky named Little Bit entered.
Little Bit had apparently15 robbed a woman’s wardrobe for his wearing apparel. For coat, he wore the upper half of a woman’s coat-suit, the tail flapping down around his knees and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows to give exit to his short arms. For a shirt, he wore a woman’s shirt-waist, silk material, flowered and lacy and frilled. We presume that the woman’s husband had contributed the masculine portion of the attire16, for the trousers had originally belonged to a man much larger in the waist and much longer in the legs than Little Bit, and the pants were hitched17 about his middle and cut off at the knees. For hose, he wore—here I cross my heart and hope I may die—a woman’s purple-silk stockings, ending at the feet with a pair of ladies’ pumps, gray suède in color with high French heels!
“Whar in de name of mud is you been at?” Skeeter Butts howled as he glared at his wristwatch. “Is you wuckin’ in dis saloon or is you ain’t? You expeck me to pay you wages when you comes here at mighty18 nigh dinner-time an’ aims to do a day’s wuck?”
“I been listenin’ to Pap Curtain make a speech,” Little Bit snickered. “He’s got a chunk19 of rock salt in one hand an’ a sour lemon in de yuther, an’ he’s talkin’ about all de sins of de Uplifters. He wants me to he’p him win out.”
“You!” Figger howled.
“Suttinly,” Little Bit answered. “I got plenty influence an’ kin4 git a lot of votes. Pap say to me dat plenty offices is to be give away to his supporters ef he gits elected an’ he done tipped me off dat I’ll be de fust high janitor21 at four dollars per mont’ pay.”
“But me an’ Figger is gwine be neuter in dis race,” Skeeter snapped. “De Hen-Scratch saloon will be de grand high headquarters of all de politics. Dis saloon mussn’t take no sides.”
“I ain’t no pardner here,” Little Bit replied. “Nobody won’t pay no mind to me.”
“All right,” Skeeter said after a moment’s thought. “I reckin you don’t count fer nothin’ nohow. But I don’t stand fer no politickin’ about dis place. Ef you gits to makin’ any of Pap’s speeches fer him, I’ll shore suppress you.”
Little Bit shuffled22 his high-heeled pumps in a few dance steps to show his contempt for this warning and passed out.
“I hope dis politics disease ain’t ketchin’,” Figger sighed. “Little Bit is done got de germ.”
“’Tain’t ketchin’,” Skeeter assured him. “But I shore hopes Pap is gwine win out or some yuther good man. Mustard Prophet oughter be squelched23.”
“I ain’t huntin’ no job like dat,” Figger replied as he closed his knife and looked with admiration24 upon his handiwork. “I’s gwine home to my dinner. Scootie is cooked some hot cakes an’ I’m got a gallon of sirup.”
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1
butts
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| 笑柄( butt的名词复数 )； （武器或工具的）粗大的一端； 屁股； 烟蒂 | |
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2
poised
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| a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
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3
sketch
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| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
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4
kin
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| n.家族，亲属，血缘关系；adj.亲属关系的，同类的 | |
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5
politicked
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| v.从政( politic的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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6
bawl
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| v.大喊大叫，大声地喊，咆哮 | |
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7
whoop
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| n.大叫，呐喊，喘息声；v.叫喊，喘息 | |
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8
growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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9
yelps
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| n.（因痛苦、气愤、兴奋等的）短而尖的叫声( yelp的名词复数 )v.发出短而尖的叫声( yelp的第三人称单数 ) | |
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10
hind
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| adj.后面的，后部的 | |
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hitch
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| v.免费搭(车旅行)；系住；急提；n.故障；急拉 | |
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12
chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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13
grunted
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的过去式和过去分词 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说 | |
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14
diminutive
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| adj.小巧可爱的，小的 | |
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15
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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16
attire
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| v.穿衣，装扮[同]array；n.衣着；盛装 | |
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17
hitched
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| （免费）搭乘他人之车( hitch的过去式和过去分词 )； 搭便车； 攀上； 跃上 | |
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18
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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19
chunk
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| n.厚片，大块，相当大的部分（数量） | |
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20
shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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21
janitor
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| n.看门人，管门人 | |
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22
shuffled
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| v.洗（纸牌）( shuffle的过去式和过去分词 )；拖着脚步走；粗心地做；摆脱尘世的烦恼 | |
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23
squelched
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| v.发吧唧声，发扑哧声( squelch的过去式和过去分词 )；制止；压制；遏制 | |
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24
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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