Lincum moved hastily. “I don’t like dis-here place,� he said. “An’ I don’t like dat white man. If de white folks ’round here finds out——Thar he is!�
A man was coming down the road. It was Mr. Smith.
“Come!� he said quickly. “Let’s get where we are to go. Some one might come and see us.�
“Don’t nobody travel dis-here road but we-all colored folks an’ dat venturesome Dick Osborne,� said Lincum. “An’ don’t nobody pester ’round de place I tol’ you ’bout.�
“Where is it?� Mr. Smith asked impatiently.
“Up de hill a little piece,� replied Lincum. “Daddy knows all ’bout it. But his mind’s mighty roamin’ to-day. Looks like he’s done tricked folks so much he’s gittin’ tricked hi’self.�
“Nonsense!� said Mr. Smith, sharply. “Here! Come, old coon! If you want that gallon bucket of money to open, you must do what I say.�
Mumbling to himself, “Money! money! money!� the old man took the lead and went up the path toward the Old Sterling Mine.
Dick came from his hiding place and crept through the woods. The men were standing by the mine, talking earnestly in low tones.
Had these negroes brought Mr. Smith here to seek its treasure? Gallon buckets of money! That was queer talk. He would go to Larkland and tell Cousin Mayo what he had heard.