square little iron building, the conch outwardly making no
sign that he heard. For, not many yards away, a handful of
conchs and negroes were at work on a half-completed shed.

Davy came to the store-room door, and opened it. Then.
turning to Brice he said aloud in the wretched dialect of his
class:

"Funny avocado fruits all pile up in yon. Mighty funny. Make
yo' laugh. Want to go see? Look!"

He swung wide the iron door and pointed to the almost totally
dark interior.

"Funny to see in yon," he said invitingly. "Never see any
like 'em befo'. I strike light for you. Arter you, my boss."

One or two men working on the nearby shed had stopped their
labor and were glancing covertly toward them.

"Oh, all right!" agreed Brice. his uninterested voice
carrying well though it was not noticeably raised. "It seems
a stuffy sort of hole. But I'll take a look at it if you
like. Where's that light you're going to strike? It--"

As he spoke he sauntered into the storeroom. His lazy speech
was cut short by the clangorous slamming of the iron door
behind him. Conscientiously he pounded on the iron and yelled
wrathful commands to Davy to open. Then when he thought he
had made noise enough to add verity to his role and to free