“Come back here, nigger,” ordered the red-faced man. “Hey, Mike!” he yelled “Here’s another of Lincoln’s pets. Send him out with the rest of the gang.” “But, boss⁠—” said Spade. “Don’t get lippy with me,” said the man, “Mike, take him along.” The pimply boy named Mike jerked a sallow thumb. “Come on, black beauty,” he said. “We got you a job.” Spade followed him, dazed. When they were out in the street The boy turned to him. “Now, nigger, watch out,” he said, Patting a heavy pistol swung at his belt, With puppy-fierceness, “You don’t get away from me. I’m a special deputy, see?” “All right, boss,” said Spade. “I ain’t aimin’ to get away from nobody now, I just aims to work till I gets myself a good mule.” The boy laughed briefly. The conversation dropped. They walked out of the town till they came to a torn-up road Where a gang of negroes was working. “Say, boss⁠—” said Spade.