The crowd followed and watched the sheriff until he locked the two negroes behind the bars.
“Nothing more doing to-night, friends,” he announced in his drawly voice. “We’ll all go to bed and discuss the matter to-morrow. Good-night.”
He walked down the street toward his home. The crowd gathered in little groups, talked for a few minutes and dissolved.
Colonel Gaitskill returned to the store, issued orders to his clerks concerning the disposition of the Skull’s body, and went home.
Just at daybreak Sunday morning, Gaitskill and Flournoy, after another fruitless search for the lost money, entered the jail.
They found Mustard and Pap Curtain sitting side by side, steeped in deepest gloom. Gaitskill became the spokesman:
“Where were you all last night, Mustard?”
“I wus in de sto’-house, Marse Tom. I didn’t leave dat place a minute till de white folks tuck me to jail.”
“What did you do after I left?”
“At de fust offstartin’, I et.”