§ 55 The Instantaneous Diagnosis
The traveling man had occasion to pass through the colored compartment of the train on his way to the baggage car, where he wished to open one of his trunks. He took note of a large black person who slept audibly, with his head lolled back against the seat, his mouth agape and his tongue hanging down on his chest like a pink plush necktie.
Now the traveling man was by way of being a practical joker. Also he had in his waistcoat pocket a number of five-grain quinine capsules.
When he returned from the baggage car he held in his hand one of those capsules, with its top removed. Along the furry surface of that pendant tongue he gently sifted the crystals of quinine. The sleeper stirred but did not waken.
The wag halted at the rear door of the Jim Crow section to await results. Presently a fly lit on the nose of the slumbering one, and he sucked his tongue back inside of his mouth. Instantly he was wide awake. He spat violently, then arose with a look of deep concern on his face and headed for the back platform.
At the door he encountered the traveling man. “Mister,” he demanded, anxiously, “does you know ef dey’s a doctor on dis yere train?”
“Who needs a doctor?” countered the white man.
“I does, tha’s who.”
“Are you sick?”
“I shore is. An’ whut’s more I knows whut ails me, an’ I knows I needs to git to a doctor right away.”
“Well, what does ail you?”
“Boss, my gall’s busted!”