“They are not pouring in very fast, Uncle Matt,” Rupert answered him once. “Perhaps it would be better for us if they did. They bring some money, at any rate. There are only one or two of them, and one is a claim agent.”
“Dat’s jest what I wants ter know,” said Matt. “What’s dey layin’ claim to? What right dey got ter claim anythin’? Gawd knows dar ain’t much ter claim.”
Rupert laughed and gave him a friendly, boyish slap on the back.
“They are not claiming things from people, but for them. They look up claims against the Government and try to get indemnity for them. They prove claims to back pay, and for damages and losses, and try to make the Government refund.”
Uncle Matt rubbed his head a minute, then he looked up eagerly.
“Cun’l De Willoughby, now,” he said; “doan’ you s’pose dar’s some back pay owin’ to him for de damage dat yaller fever done him wot he done cotch from de army?”
Rupert laughed a little bitterly.
“No,” he said, “I’m afraid not.”
“What dey gwine to refun’, den?” said Matt. “Dat’s what I’d like ter fin’ out. Dis hyer idee of refun’in’ please me mightily. I’d be pow’fle glad to come bang up agin’ some refun’in’ myself.”
From that time his interest in Milton January, Claim Agent, increased week by week. He used to loiter about talking groups if he caught the sound of his name, in the hope of gathering information. He was quite shrewd enough to realise his own entire ignorance of many subjects, and he had the pride which prevented his being willing to commit himself.