"A pretty situation of affairs, isn't it?" said Decherd. "Looks like the road would have to pay, if these claims were fought."
"I should say so. These judgments are on the court records all the way from here to New Orleans, and they're all as good as gold. The company can't dodge out of one of them, if a fellow takes enough. interest to get around and collect. Most of them are air-tight. Some have gone on appeal to upper courts, but we don't bother to appeal these little ones. And, you know, there ain't a court in the Delta that wouldn't cinch the road if it got a chance."
"How much do they foot up?" said Decherd again, reaching out his hand for the papers.
"About eighty thousand dollars, or something like that. Why, if a fellow—"
"A fellow couldn't push the whole thing at once, you know; he would be discovered the first thing," said Decherd. The other pricked up his ears eagerly.
"Suppose he was caught," said he, "what could they do? If I want to go down to John Jones' cabin, down somewhere in the cane-brakes, and give him five dollars for a judgment that he has forgot about, or is scared to try to collect, why, I get the judgment, and it's legal, ain't it? Or suppose I just poke him up to collect it and he gives me half? That's legal, ain't it? And who can help it, even if anybody knew? Why, say, if I was Mr. Eddring there, knowing what he does about these claims, do you reckon I'd be working very long? I reckon not. I'd go in along this line of road and I'd get some fellow to hunt up these claims, a few at a time, and I'd see that the company paid these judgments!" He swelled up at the thought of his own daring. "Why, Mr. Eddring," he went on, "he could stand in on both sides—draw a salary from the company, an' divide with the niggers and the white folks that has claims against the road. It's easy, especially with the niggers, because they never do know what's going on, anyhow."
Decherd puckered up his lips, and paused for a time in thought. Carson went on. "I wouldn't ask anything better than this," said he, "to get plumb rich in about two or three years."
Decherd walked up and down slowly, his finger pressed to his chin in thought. His face was worn and haggard. His clothing had taken on a seedy cast not formerly common to him. Apparently things might have been better with him in a financial way. Perhaps he saw a way to mend matters. "Halves?" said he at length, suddenly looking straight into Carson's face.
The clerk flushed a dull red. The conspiracy was formed. "Why, yes," said he, his voice half-trembling. "I reckon that would be about right."
"Well, then, give me the lists," said Decherd. "I'm up and down the road in the Delta now and then. I'll take care of these things. As for you, whatever you see or hear, keep your mouth shut, or it'll be the worse for you."