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hit his teeth they flashed like a pearl-handled revolver.
    As the wagon made a little curve in the road, I got a glimpse at the side, and I could see there was a cage fixed there, balancing out the barrels of water and supplies on the other side.
    At first, I thought what was in the cage was a deformed colored fella, but when it got closer, I seen it was some kind of animal covered in black fur. It was about the scariest, ugliest damned thing I'd ever seen.
    Right then I was feeling a mite less proud than I had been earlier that morning, so I got them crutches under my sore arms and hobbled out into the road waving a hand at the wagon. I was aiming on getting a ride or getting run slap over so I could end the torture. I didn't feel like I could crutch another mile.
    The wagon slowed and pulled alongside me. The driver yelled, "Whoa, you old ugly mules," and the harness bells ceased to shake.
    I could see the animal in the cage good now, but I still couldn't figure on what it was. There was some yellow words painted above the cage that said, "THE MAGIC WAGON," and to the right of the cage was a little sign with some fancy writing on it that read: "Magic Tricks, Trick Shooting, Fortune Telling, Wrestling Ape, Side Amusements, Medicine For What Ails You, And All At Reasonable Prices."
    Sounded pretty good to me.
    "You look like you could use a ride, white boy," the big man said.
    "Yes sir, I could at that," I said.
    "You don't yes-sir a nigger." I turned to see who had said that, and there was this fella standing in faded, red long Johns and moccasins with blond hair down to his shoulders and a skimpy little blond mustache over his lip, He had his arms crossed, holding his elbows against the cold. He'd obviously come out of the back of the wagon, but he'd walked so quiet I hadn't even known he was there till he spoke.
    When I didn't say nothing, he added, "This here's my wagon. He's just a nigger that works for me. I say who ride and who don't, and I say you don't."
    "I got some jerky, canned taters, and beans I can trade fo a ride, and I'll sit up there on the seat."
    "If you was riding you sure would," the blond man said "But you ain't riding." He turned back to the wagon and noticed the flap of his long Johns were down. I snickered little, and he turned to stare at me. He had eyes like couple of big nail heads, cold, flat, and gray. "I don't nee no beans and taters," he said sharply, and turned back to the wagon.
    "He can ride up here with me if he's got a mind to," the colored man said.
    The white fella spun around and came stomping back "What did you say?"
    "I said he could ride up here with me if he's got a mind to," the colored man said, moving his lips real slowlike, as if he was talking to an idiot. "It's too cold for a boy to be out here, especially one on crutches."
    "You don't say," said the blond man. "You're getting awfully uppity for a nigger who works for me."
    "Maybe I is," the colored fella said. "And it worries me something awful, Mister Billy Bob. I get so worried abouts it I can't get me no good sleep at night. When I lays myself down I just keep tossing and turning, wondering if Mr. Billy Bob is put out with me, and if I truly "is getting uppity."
    Mister Billy Bob pointed his finger at the colored fella and shook it. "Keep it up, nigger. Just keep it up and you're going to wake up with a crowd of buzzards on you. Hear?"
    "I hear," said the colored man, and it was almost a yawn.
    Billy Bob started back for the wagon again, gave me glimpse of his exposed butt, turned, and came back. He shook his finger at the colored fella again. "Albert," he said, "you and me, we're going to have to have a serious Come to-Jesus Meeting, get some things straight about who's the nigger and who ain't."
    "I do need me some pointers on that, Mister Billy Bob. I get a trifle confused sometimes and it just sets me to shuffling my feet trying to figure on the straight of it."
    Billy Bob stood there for a moment, like he was going to