But Peppajee rose and stalked majestically to the gate, then
turned and confronted the two.
"I talk yo'. Mebbyso no talk Man-with-big-belly." He waited
impassively.
"All right, Jim." Peaceful turned apologetically toward his
guest. "Something he wants to tell me, Baumberger; kinda
private, I guess. I'll be back in a minute, anyway."
"Now don't mind me at all," Baumberger protested generously. "Go
ahead just as if I wasn't here--that's what'll please me best. I
hope I ain't so much of a stranger you've got to stand on
ceremony. Go on, and find out what the old buck wants; he's got
something on his mind, that's sure. Been stealing fruit, maybe,
and wants to square himself before you catch him at it." He
laughed his laziest, and began leisurely to fill his pipe.
Peppajee led the way to the stable, where he stopped short and
faced Peaceful, his arms folded, one foot thrust forward in the
pose he affected when about to speak of matters important.
"Long time ago, when yo' hair black," he began deliberately, with
a sonorous lingering upon his vowels, "yo' all time my frien'.
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