“Thunderation!” the sheriff exclaimed in a mighty voice. “Hunt around for that money-bag. This fellow did not get away with it.”
Oil lanterns were quickly procured and the crowd searched the street, the alley, the lot in the rear and the neighboring places. They discovered nothing but the limp form of Pap Curtain.
While the crowd was gathering around Curtain, from inside the store a mighty shout arose:
“Here’s the other one, Flournoy!”
The crowd plunged into the store, surged to the rear and gathered in a tight circle around the prostrate form of Mustard Prophet.
He was still asleep!
III
THE SLEEPER WAKES.
A number of eager feet kicked Mustard Prophet into wakefulness.
As many willing hands assisted him to his feet. He stood among them, glaring owlishly, blinded by the light, confused by the noise, frightened by the unaccountable presence of most of the male inhabitants of Tickfall.
“’Scuse me, white folks,” he began. “I shore is befuddled-up by all dis here gwines-on. Marse Tom say fer me not to let nobody in dis here sto’-house.”