"Hocked it?" queried Giant.
"Yes, pawned it fo' six dollahs."
"Where?"
"At Levy's store in Williamsport."
"Where is the ticket?" asked Shep.
"Heah in my pocket. I'se a poah man, dat's wot I am," went on Jeff Thompson. "I didn't hab no wuk an' I was des'prit. So I tuk dat watch. I meant to git it back some day."
"No doubt," said Snap, sarcastically. "Give me the ticket," he added, and stowed the pawnbroker's receipt carefully away in his own clothes.
After that Jeff Thompson confessed that he had visited both the camp of the young hunters and that of Ham Spink's crowd and taken such things as struck his fancy. He was a shiftless mortal and half intoxicated and did not care much what became of himself.
The boys were too cold and hungry to listen, just then, to his story in detail, and threatening to shoot him if he dared to move, they piled some more wood on the fire, rummaged around through the stores Thompson had collected and prepared themselves a hot and welcome meal. The negro watched them for awhile and then turned over and pretended to go to sleep again.
"Maybe he is playing 'possum," whispered Shep.