The Weber Literary Journal The door opened. The Chinaboy came flying out. Rastus got sight of the long jagged knife, held by Wing Chang, and hid behind the garbage can at the side of the doorway. "Listen, you child of the many thousand evil spirits," Wing Chang again raved to Wong-Lee. "If you carry the ring, the spirit of my ancestors will come and cause you harm maybe he kill you maybe you get run over by auto. Anyhow, my sixth ancestor's spirit will harm you maybe I'll never see you again, you devil's child." Rastus shuddered. Wong-Lee didn't answer. Wing Chang talked with all sincerity, as he made fearful motions with the horrible knife that he held. "Oh, great, mighty, sixth ancestor, forgive me for being careless with thy only emblem, I have worshipped thee times many scores, and more, please keep thy protection over my house strike down the thief who has stolen thy emblem." Rastus's one and only thought was to get away, which he did when the raving Chink re-entered the kitchen door. "Gawd les' go," said the black boy as he caught his Chinee companion by the sleeve and attempted to pull him along at his own rate of speed. "Chang am too familiar with the spirits." "No. Chang was helpless with spirits. See." The yellow boy held up a ring, carved with many Chinese figures, apparently many years in age. "Git it away ah don' want it ah don want it it's hanted it's HANTED!" Wong-Lee looked up and down the street. No one was near, so he continued, "Me take ring from Chang room " he explained. "Chang, he sleep stupor sleepnhe smoke spirit powder 'gain las' night Chang tell me 'no tell' or he stab me; but I tell you you my frien' you no tell or he sure stab you with he knife devil knife." "I saw it I saw that bloody toad stab at yuh an' yuh can take mah guarantee, ah'll nevah tell ah'll nevah tell." Wong-Lee continued: "Chang got eleven room upstair he take all room to smoke spirit powder. He have much people las' night after tea-room close. I wash dishes all night I very tired he no let me sleep in my room he make me go down hot kitchen to sleep he let people use my room an' smoke spirit powder in my room. Chang make me mad I make believe I will tell police Chang kill me if I tell police. He come at me with knife an' ol' Chuck Darrell knocked 'im down an' said dope and burgly might be all right, but 32 The Weber Literary Journal 33 when it comes to killin' kids he drawed the line, and I run, an' this morning he come at me again. Chang bad me scared of Chang." "An' chile, I don' blame yo a bit Ah'd be scared of him too ain't ya a scared o' being run ovah today, becuz yo stole the ring just lak he said?" "Me don't care if auto run over Wong Chang kill me someday maybe anyhow." At the words Rastus stopped dead still. His black eyes grew big and round and the whites gleamed. "Golly," he said. He walked along nodding his head awhile, and then remarked, still nodding, "I jes shouldn't wonder nohow if he did." "Yuh shouldn't, huh?" "Nope." Wong clutched Rastus's arm. "Oh Rastus, I ain't never goin' back." Rastus, who had been serenely smiling, with the taste of a thousand dollars worth of watermelons in his mouth, suddenly sensed that his companion's outlook was not quite so bright. Well, he would be generous. So he began: "Say, Wong, is that 'spirit powdah' stuff what yo' call 'dope'?" "White man and American paper call 'dope' it not, though, it made from poppy." "Well, Chang won't kill you, then! we'll tip off the bulls an' then we'll have him outa the way, and then p'raps somebody's up there. "No, never do. Chang frien' kill us both. Chang very wise Chinaman maybe he spy on us now we better no talk." The boys entered school. Rastus Johnson and Wong-Lee were undisputably friends. People called it amazing, but it was so. Down Brooker street, there were plenty of black boys from whom Rastus could choose associates by the dozens, but he didn't. There were Chinese galore with whom Wong could mingle, yet he preferred the black boy to his own kind. Rastus, so he said, could "stummick" but one Chink, so he adopted Wong-Lee, introduced him to the schoolyard gang, taught him the art of craps, and profited thereby, ever after. Oh, how unsteady the head that wears a crown; how shaky all thrones; how uneasy the position of the king, whether he be king of men, of finance, or of craps. Rastus Abraham Pernicious Johnson 33