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Negro Stories

4.2 (1760)

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    Available in PDF - DJVU Format | Negro Stories.pdf | Language: ENGLISH
    Eldred Kurtz Means (Author)

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This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1921. Excerpt: ... that Mustard was in the house, or even in his sister's room, made no difference to the boy. That part of it was all right. Orren was determined that Mustard should not see him. He lay down flat upon the stair-steps and crawled with the greatest caution toward the top. Just as the steamboat navigated the dangerous waters of Miss Gaitskill's room and threw out a line on the dressing-table, the Indian peeped around the door-jamb! It is better to bandon the rhetorical and imaginative now: it is too easy to forget which is who, and get the Indian and the steamboat mixed. What Org saw as he peeped around the door was Mustard Prophet, his nervous black hand resting upon the dressing-table. Slowly Org raised himself to his feet and took a big breath and jumped. There was a loud whoop, which Org imagined was the equivalent to a blood-curdling yell! It curdled Mustard Prophet, all right! The negro was absolutely petrified! He stood like a statue carved of ebony, apparently nothing alive about him except the eyes, which got bigger and burned with fires of terror. Fright sometimes paralyzes temporarily: nothing moves, even the mind stands still. The victim helpless, disaster swoops down like an eagle upon its prey. Orren was disappointed. 'Why didn't you jump when I hollered?' he exclaimed in an aggrieved tone. 'I'm playing Indian.' Orren was completely blind to the negro's pitiful fright. It was fully a minute before Mustard could utter a word. The vital forces had ceased, and they started slowly as when a street-car grips the vital force of the cable and gets going. 'Dat yell wus so disturbin' dat I felt--er--sorter disturbed, Marse Org,' he sighed weakly, walking toward the hall and resting his hand upon the door-jamb. 'I wus plum' putrified wid bem' so skeart!' '...
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