DAVE STRUCK OUT ACROSS the fields, looking homeward through parting light. Whut's the use talkin wid em niggers in the field? Anyhow, his mother was putting supper on the table. Them niggers; can't understan nothing. One of these days he was going to get a gun and practice shooting, then they couldn't talk to him as though he were a little boy. He slowed, looking at the ground. Shucks, Ah ain scareda them even ef they are biggem me! Aw, Ah know whut Ahma do. Ahm going by ol Joe's sto n git that Sears Roebuck catlog n look at them guns. Mebbe Ma will lemme buy one when she gits mah pay from ol man Hawkins. Ahma beg her t gimme some money. Ahm ol ernough to hava gun. Ahm seventeen. Almost a man. He strode, feeling his long loose-jointed limbs. Shucks, a man oughta hava little gun aftah he done worked hard all day.
He came in sight of Joe's store. A yellow lantern glowed on the front porch. He mounted steps and went through the screen door, hearing it bang behind him. There was a strong smell of coal oil and mackerel fish. He felt very confident until he saw fat Joe walk in through the rear door, then his courage began to ooze.
"Howdy, Dave! Whutcha want?"
"How yuh, Mistah Joe? Aw, Ah don wanna buy nothing. Ah jus wanted t see ef yuhd lemme look at tha catlog erwhile."
"Sure! You wanna see it here?"
"Nawsuh. Ah wans t take it home wid me. Ah'll bring it back termorrow when Ah come in from the fiels. "
"You plannin on buying something?"
"Yessuh."
"Your ma lettin you have your own money now?"
"Shucks. Mistah Joe, Ahm gittin t be a man like anybody else!"
Joe laughed and wiped his greasy white face with a red bandanna.
"Whut you plannin on buyin?"
Dave looked at the floor, scratched his head, scratched his thigh, and smiled. Then he looked up shyly.
"Ah'll tell yuh, Mistah Joe, ef yuh promise yuh won't tell."
"I promise."
"Waal, Ahma buy a gun."
"A gun? Whut you want with a gun?"
"Ah wanna keep it."
"You ain't nothing but a boy. You don't need a gun."
"Aw, lemme have the catlog, Mistah Joe. Ah'Il bring it back."
Joe walked through the rear door. Dave was elated. He looked around at barrels of sugar and flour. He heard Joe coming back. He craned his neck to see if he were bringing the book. Yeah, he's got it. Gawddog, he's got it!
"Here, but be sure you bring it back. It's the only one I got."
"Sho, Mistah Joe."
"Say, if you wanna buy a gun, why don't you buy one from me? I gotta gun to sell."
"Will it shoot?"
"Sure it'll shoot."
"Whut kind is it?"
"Oh, it's kinda old . . . a left-hand Wheeler. A pistol. A big one."
"Is it got bullets in it?"
"It's loaded."
"Kin Ah see it?"
"Where's your money?"
"Whut yuh wan fer it?"
"I'll let you have it for two dollars."
"Just two dollahs? Shucks, Ah could buy tha when Ah git mah pay.
"I'll have it here when you want it."
"Awright, suh. Ah be in fer it.
He went through the door, hearing it slam again behind him. Ahma git some money from Ma n buy me a gun! Only two dollahs! He tucked the thick catalogue under his arm and hurried.
"Where yuh been, boy?" His mother held a steaming dish of black-eyed peas.
"Aw, Ma, Ah jus stopped down the road t talk wid the boys."
"Yuh know bettah t keep suppah waitin."
He sat down, resting the catalogue on the edge of the table.
"Yuh git up from there and git to the well n wash yosef! Ah ain feedin no hogs in mah house!" She grabbed his shoulder and pushed him. He stumbled out of the room, then came back to get the catalogue.
"Whut this?"
"Aw, Ma, it's jusa catlog."
"Who yuh git it from?"
"From Joe, down at the sto."
"Waal, thas good. We kin use it in the outhouse."
"Naw, Ma." He grabbed for it. "Gimme ma catlog, Ma."
She held onto it and glared at him.
"Quit hollerin at me! Whut's wrong wid yuh? Yuh crazy?"
"But Ma, please. It ain mine! It's Joe's! He tol me t bring it back t im termorrow. "
She gave up the book. He stumbled down the back steps, hugging the thick book under his arm. When he had splashed water on his face and hands, he groped back to the kitchen and fumbled in a corner for the towel. He bumped into a chair; it clattered to the floor. The catalogue sprawled at his feet. When he had dried his eyes he snatched up the book and held it again under his arm. His mother stood watching him.
"Now, ef yuh gonna act a fool over that ol book, Ah'll take it n burn it up."
"Naw, Ma, please."
"Waal, set down n be still!"
He sat down and drew the oil lamp close. He thumbed page after page, unaware of the food his mother set on the table. His father came in. Then his small brother.
"Whutcha got there, Dave?" his father asked.
"Jusa catlog," he answered, not looking up.
"Yeah, here they is!" His eyes glowed at blue-and-black revolvers. He glanced up, feeling sudden guilt. His father was watching him. He eased the book under the table and rested it on his knees. After the blessing was asked, he ate. He scooped up peas and swallowed fat meat without chewing. Buttermilk helped to wash it down. He did not want to mention money before his father. He would do much better by cornering his mother when she was alone. He looked at his father uneasily out of the edge of his eye.
"Boy, how come yuh don quit foolin wid tha book n eat yo suppah?"
"Yessuh."
"How you n ol man Hawkins gitten erlong?"
"Suh?"
"Can't yuh hear? Why don yuh lissen? Ah ast yu how wuz yuh n ol man Hawkins gittin erlong?"
"Oh, swell, Pa. Ah plows mo Ian than anybody over there."
"Waal, yuh oughta keep yo mind on whut yuh doin."
"Yessuh. "
He poured his plate full of molasses and sopped it up slowly with a chunk of combread. When his father and brother had left the kitchen, he still sat and looked again at the guns in the catalogue, longing to muster courage enough to present his case to his mother. Lawd, ef Ah only had tha pretty one! He could almost feel the slickness of the weapon with his fingers. If he had a gun like that he would polish it and keep it shining so it would never rust. N Ah'd keep it loaded, by Gawd!
"Ma?" His voice was hesitant.
"Hunh?"
"Ol man Hawkins give yuh mah money yit?"
"Yeah, but ain no usa yuh thinking bout throwin nona it erway. Ahm keepin tha money sos yuh kin have cloes t go to school this winter. "
He rose and went to her side with the open catalogue in his palms. She was washing dishes, her head bent low over a pan. Shyly he raised the book. When he spoke, his voice was husky, faint.
"Ma, Gawd knows Ah wans one of these."
"One of whut?" she asked, not raising her eyes.
"One of these," he said again, not daring even to point. She glanced up at the page, then at him with wide eyes.
"Nigger, is yuh gone plumb crazy?"
"Aw, Ma- "
"Git outta here! Don yuh talk t me bout no gun! Yuh a fool!"
"Ma, Ah kin buy one fer two dollahs. "
"Not ef Ah knows it, yuh ain!"
"But yuh promised me one-"
"Ah don care whut Ah promised! Yuh ain nothing but a boy yit!"
"Ma, ef yuh lemme buy one Ah'll never ast yuh fer nothing no mo."
"Ah tol yuh t git outta here! Yuh ain gonna toucha penny of tha money fer no gun! Thas how come Ah has Mistah Hawkins t pay yo wages t me, cause Ah knows yuh ain got no sense."
"But, Ma, we needa gun. Pa ain got no gun. We needa gun in the house. Yuh kin never tell whut might happen."
"Now don yuh try to maka fool outta me, boy! Ef we did hava gun, yuh wouldn't have it!"
He laid the catalogue down and slipped his arm around her waist.
"Aw, Ma, Ah done worked hard alla summer n ain ast yuh fer nothin, is Ah, now?"
"Thas whut yuh spose t do!"
"But Ma, Ah wans a gun. Yuh kin lemme have two dollahs outta mah money. Please, Ma. I kin give it to Pa ... Please, Ma! Ah loves yuh, Ma."
When she spoke her voice came soft and low.
"Whut yu wan wida gun, Dave? Yuh don need no gun. Yuh'II git in trouble. N ef yo pa jus thought Ah let yuh have money t buy a gun he'd hava fit."
"Ah'1llhide it, Ma. It ain but two dollahs."
"Lawd, chil, whut's wrong wid yuh?"
"Ain nothin wrong, Ma. Ahm almos a man now. Ah wans a gun.
"Who gonna sell yuh a gun?"
"Ol Joe at the sto."
"N it don cos but two dollahs?"
"Thas all, Ma. Jus two dollahs. Please, Ma."
She was stacking the plates away; her hands moved slowly, reflectively. Dave kept an anxious silence. Finally, she turned to him.
"Ah'Il let yuh git tha gun ef yuh promise me one thing.
"Whut's tha, Ma?"
"Yuh bring it straight back t me, yuh hear? It be fer Pa. "
"Yessum! Lernme go now, Ma."
She stooped, turned slightly to one side, raised the hem of her dress, rolled down the top of her stocking, and came up with a slender wad of bills.
"Here," she said. "Lawd knows yuh don need no gun. But yer pa does. Yuh bring it right back t me, yuh hear? Ahma put it up. Now ef yuh don, Ahma have yuh pa lick yuh so hard yuh won fergit it." "Yessum. "
He took the money, ran down the steps, and across the yard.
"Dave! Yuuuuuh Daaaaave!"
He heard, but he was not going to stop now. "Naw, Lawd!"
The first movement he made the following morning was to reach under his pillow for the gun. In the gray light of dawn he held it loosely, feeling a sense of power. Could kill a man with a gun like this. Kill anybody, black or white. And if he were holding his gun in his hand, nobody could run over him; they would have to respect him. It was a big gun, with a long barrel and a heavy handle. He raised and lowered it in his hand, marveling at its weight.
He had not come straight home with it as his mother had asked; instead he had stayed out in the fields, holding the weapon in his hand, aiming it now and then at some imaginary foe. But he had not fired it; he had been afraid that his father might hear. Also he was not sure he knew how to fire it.
To avoid surrendering the pistol he had not come into the house until he knew that they were all asleep. When his mother had tiptoed to his bedside late that night and demanded the gun, he had first played possum; then he had told her that the gun was hidden outdoors, that he would bring it to her in the morning. Now he lay turning it slowly in his hands. He broke it, took out the cartridges, felt them, and then p