But the pair spoke in a faint whisper, and Jem could not catch a word.
Presently the man dropped the lid of the well, spread some sawdust over it, and, taking up the candle from a cask, lighted Martha up the steps, following himself immediately after.
Jem got up, gave vent to a noiseless whistle, and, having had his curiosity sharpened to a most ravening edge, determined to play spy a little longer.
Accordingly he drew back into the shadow of the house, chose a tree as ambush, and kept a sharp watch both upon cellar and door.
The light did not appear in the former, and for some time the latter was not moved, but at last Jem heard voices in the bar, and presently Martha opened the door.
She stood for a few moments looking up and down the empty street, then re-entered.
"What they call reckonorriting," muttered Jem. "Now I bet the old chap'll come out."
And so it proved.
The little old man did come out, and set off at a sharp trot up the hill.
"Well, I'm blest; that must be funny fishin' up a mountain," said Jem to himself. "He's in a mighty hurry, too. But what's my move? Do I dog him or wait here a bit longer and see what the old woman will be up to? If I sets off arter him he's safe to see me; you could see a brass farden at two miles in this light. No, I'll stop here."