What followed is still a subject of wondering conversation on San
Juan Hill.
It seems that Mr. Travis seized Mr. Raffin by the collar of his coat,
and swung him round and round and over his head. Mr. Raffin streamed
almost straight out, like the imitation airplanes that whirl dizzily
about the tower in an amusement park. Suddenly there was a rending
of cloth, and Dominique shot through the air to encounter the wall
with a soul-satisfying thump.
Ambrose looked bewildered at the torn clothing he held in his hand,
and then at the limp form of his late antagonist. Mr. Raffin lay
groaning, naked from the waist up.
Ambrose strode across to administer further chastisement, but
was halted by a cry from one of the onlookers. This man stood
pointing at Dominique's naked back--pointing, and staring with eyes
that rolled with genuine negro terror.
"Look!" gasped the affrighted one. "Look! It's de Voo-doo Eye--
_dat man's a witch_! Ambrose, fo' de Lawd's sake, git away from
hyar!"
"What you-all talkin' about?" scoffed Ambrose, striding closer, and
rolling Dominique so that the light shone full on his back.
"What you-all talkin'----_Good Lawd_"!
This last ejaculation from Ambrose was caused by the sight that met
his gaze.
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