answering shot so I went to bed. The next morning while we were 
eating breakfast Skinner walked in. His first remark was: “Why 
did you not keep up blowing the horn? You just blew it enough to 
confuse me. I was on the right course when you began to blow and I 
got tangled up in some cane and rattan vines and lost my course.” 
“Where did you stay last night?” I asked. He said, “In the swamp, 
of course,” was the none too cheerful reply and at that everyone 
(niggers and all) gave Skinner the horse-laugh. I felt sorry for him, 
though. His eyes were red and he looked all in and was as wet as a 
drowned rat. 
Again it was Monday and cotton picking time. Evenings Skinner 
would talk about hunting and trapping and finally we agreed to go 
partners for the winter. 
The next Sunday had arrived and another deer hunt was planned. 
Skinner had failed two Sundays in succession, which stung him a little. 
This third Sunday we had made arrangements to ride instead of walk. 
Skinner said we could bell our saddle horses and the deer would not 
get frightened at a belled horse. Andrew Climan proposed to let me 
ride Old Beck, which was a large black mule which was not gun shy. 
When we started old Adam said, “Mr. Skinner, we want to see you 
bring in a buck today. Don’t let that boy hunter beats you again.” 
Off we went, prepared for a hunt. Skinner killed two deer that 
day and I only killed one. I was really glad as Skinner seemed a 
little worried as he had killed no deer in two days’ hunt. 
The niggers took our deer and dressed them as it meant meat 
in the fat for them. 
Skinner proposed one day that he sell his cotton crop in the field 
and we would start on our hunting and trapping as soon as possible. 
In a few T days he sold to Andrew Climan, but had to go to Pine Bluff 
to get the money he was to receive for his cotton crop. I had never 
met many untruthful men so I trustingly gave Mr. Skinner $60.00 to 
pay for my part of the outfit, including traps and a gun. This only 
left me $4.00 and I could see no use of going with Skinner to Pine 
Bluff when I could remain and be picking cotton. 
A week elapsed. Skinner did not return and I thought he had 
been delayed, but another week elapsed and no Skinner. This put 
me on nettles. Finally one day Andrew Climan heard from his uncle 
stating he paid Skinner his money and he had gone on a spree and got. 
into trouble of some kind and was then in jail. I then knew I had 
misplaced confidence in Skinner and said farewell to my $60.00. This 
stung, but what was there to do? 
Andrew Climan, superintendent of the farm, was a fine young 
Kentuckian and he saw that I was awfully put out because I did not 
have enough money to buy my trapping outfit. He offered to loan 
me the money to buy the outfit and let me have old Beck, the hunting- 
mule, to hunt on and pay me three cents per pound for deer and three 
cents per pound for all the wild hogs I could kill. I accepted his. 
proposition on the spot. The traps, slicker coat and rubber boots, 
were ordered at once and it wasn’t long before they arrived and you 
can bet the minute I got them I quit picking cotton. 
— 36 — 
