Argosy All-Story Weekly, October 6, 1923 — page 95: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE HEAD CHOPPER. saloon, came over and sat down at the table beside the stranger. Skeeter was a dapper little fellow, dressy as a dancing master, possessed of exceptional conversational gifts, and an imagination which fed upon itself and found its sustenance inexhaus- tible. Today Skeeter was feeling imagi- native and his remarks were likely to be extraordinary. “Who is dis here Hitch Diamond dat dey ’p’inted to poleece me?” Jim Golly wanted to know, a slight shiver passing through his rolls of physical fat. “T don’t know him so awful good,” Skeeter answered promptly, “an’ I ain’t know fer sure who he is. Fer ninstunce, he looks like a nigger dat could preach a ser- mont, an’ he looks like a black whut could sing a song an’ dance, an’ he looks like a man whut could eat a dawg if he wus hongry, or git in a fight an’ pull a laig off an’ beat a feller to death wid it.” ‘Whose laig? Hisn?” Jim asked, “Naw! Yourn,” Skeeter snapped, strik- ing a match to light a cigarette, disgusted with a stupidity which could not under- stand his eloquence. “ Whut kind of nigger is he?” asked, still seeking for light. “Gawd knows!” Skeeter sighed through his smoke. “I axed him whut kind of black he was an’ he tole me he wus a black Affikin.”’ “ Whut kind bizzness do he do? ” Jim persisted. “ He’s de official exalted Head Chopper of our lodge,” Skeeter responded. “ But whut else do he do?” Jim said impatiently. ‘‘ Whut is he done befo’ he come to dis here Tickfall town?” “ Well, suh, dat’s whut teetotally delapi- dates my mind,” Skeeter replied. “ He tole me dat he never had no job outside of Affiky ontwell he come to Tickfall «an’ he said he wucked fer a king in dat country an’ was a head chopper.” “ Whut did he specify he chopped?” Jim asked with a shudder. “« Heads.” ‘“Whut did he chop ’em fer?” Jim de- manded. “‘ Because de king tole him to, I reckin,” Skeeter answered, feeling his way, and Jim 877 speaking in uncertain tones. “I ain’t ax no perticklers. Gawd knows, I don’t crave to git too good acquainted wid dat sort of coon.”’ “ Did he git paid by de job? Or did he done piece-wuck?” Jim wanted to know. ““T dunno,” Skeeter told him. “He fotch his ax wid him when he come to town an’ us elected him head chopper of de lodge. Ef you wants to know anything else about our lodge ax-man, ax him!” - At that moment, Hitch Diamond en- tered the Hen-scratch and came toward them. Jim Golly noted with thankfulness that he carried no headsman’s ax. Like a clumsy bear he rolled up to their table and laid a bulky package upon the top. ‘I fotch de money down so us could go to de bank,” Hitch rumbled. ‘“ Some of de boys is feelin’ a little bare in spots wid deir raggety overalls an’ dey craves to hab deir new suits sont fer immediate.” “Dat suits me,” Jim asserted, springing to his feet. “I got to hang aroun’ ‘dis Tickfall town till dem clothes comes, an’ de sooner we gits ’em started, de better I’ll like it. Dis here way of makin’ a living’ is slow because I got to linger till my ordahs gits filled.” They walked down the crooked streets of Tickfall’s negro settlement and entered the Tickfall bank. Hitch spoke to the teller: | ‘ Dis here cullud pusson wid me is named Jim Golly, Mr. Sam. Us is puttin’ lodge money in de bank in Jim’s name. We aims to draw it out an’ buy us some lodge re- galia clothes.” Quickly the teller waited on them, giving Jim a duplicate deposit slip. Then the two Stepped over to a desk, and Jim brought forth an envelope from his pocket. Spread- ing out its contents, he explained: “Mr. Chopper, dis is de letter I wrote to my bosses. Dis here is a list of all de size measures so de suits will fit. Now I’m gwine write de check for two hundred dol- lars an’ put it in dis letter an’ let you mail de letter wid yo’ own hand. Is dat c’rect?” “*Tain’t nothin’ else,” Hitch Diamond rumbled. “I cain’t ax no mo’.” During the exhibition of the contents of COMiclooe (©