“Power was livin’ up the river then, as I said, in a cabin in the swamps, not much better’n any nigger. I didn’t know ’em much then, but I reckon they was a tolerable tough lot. The boys was up to most kinds of devilment, and some said they was mixed up with ‘Blue Bob’s’ river gang. I dunno; likely there was nothing in that yarn; for they was mighty good boys, if somewhat lively, and everybody liked ’em, pore as they was.
“It sure must have jolted old Henry Power when he heard that the Burwell property was coming to him. But it took close to a year to get it. The legislature had to pass a bill; but that lawyer had things fixed up hard and fast, and there was no getting away from the evidence that Power was the right man.
“But he didn’t get the whole estate—not by a heap. In the first place, the State couldn’t give back what it had sold, and it wouldn’t give up but half of what it got from selling the timber, and then I guess the lawyer got about half of that again for his share. But, anyhow, I’ve heard that Power got a haul of close on to fifty thousand, besides getting their clear title to the house and what was left of the land.”
“I see,” said Lockwood, more interested than he cared to show. “And now they’re enjoying it!”
“They shorely are. You seen that big autymobeel. They’ve got a fast motor boat down in the bayou, too—cost a thousand dollars, I hear. Champagne at ten dollars a bottle is what they drink.”
“Old Henry Power don’t drink none of it,” drawled a farmer. “Says corn liquor is good enough for him yet.”
“Mebbe so. I reckon so. Anyway, the boys is some high rollers these days, and not stingy, neither. Any man what wants a loan can get it there. And there ain’t nothing too good for Miss Louise.”
“Their sister?”
“Yes, sir. She’s been away in N’Orleans, they say. Earnin’ her own livin’, likely. But she come back last fall. The old man wanted her back, and she had to have her share of what’s going.”
“How about Mr. Hanna?” asked Lockwood. “Has he been here long?”