"Just so! I understand. Well, Mr. Drew, maybe I been a mite too bold; but I'll step in another inch or two and say this: When ye need any help down there on the Old Ivison Place, just send word to Dan Smeed's partner. D'ye understand?"
"I thank you, I'm sure," Oliver told him dryly. "But really I don't think I'll need any help. My garden is so small that—"
"Just so! Still, ye never can tell when a foxy fella like you'll need help. And Dan Smeed's partner'll be always ready to help. Just remember that."
"Help with what?" asked Oliver testingly.
"In watchin' the dead," was Selden's surprising answer, spoken in a crafty half-whisper.
"In watching the dead!" cried his listener. "Why, I—"
"Le's go in to the womenfolks now," interrupted Selden. "And keep thinkin' over this, Mr. Drew. Always ready to help—d'ye savvy? And don't ye pay no attention to that there supposed gang that they call the Poison Oakers. They ain't no such gang. But if anybody does try to bother ye, tell me. Get me? Tell Dan Smeed's partner. He'll help ye watch the dead."
"You're talking in riddles," Oliver snorted. "I don't understand—"
"Oh, yes, ye do! Ye savvy, all right. Ye're foxy, Mr. Drew. I'll say no more just now. But when ye need my help...."
Their voices trailed off.