Joe got back to Burnam’s camp to find gum running freely again. Morris, who had been riding the river orchard in his absence, reported that everything looked promising, and Joe found it so when he rode over the woods on the day after his return. The negroes were glad to have him back; they saluted him delightedly. Sam said that the gum might be dipped in two more hot days, and Joe began to feel much more confident of the camp’s future.
But the next morning there was a different story. He was a little later than usual in arriving at the woods, and when he turned into the pines he found his whole gang of chippers collected and waiting for him.
“What’s the matter? Why aren’t you boys at work?” he exclaimed.
“Capt’n, somebody’s done emptied our cups,” said one of the negroes, solemnly.
“What! Stealing gum!” cried Joe. He had heard of thefts of raw gum from turpentine tracts before. The stuff is marketable, and can be sold at any still.
“If any of you have been robbing the cups, I’ll put you where you’ll never steal any more,” he threatened.
“No, suh, capt’n! No, suh, Mr. Joe!” declared the man. “Ain’t none of dis gang wouldn’t steal gum. An’ de cups is gone, too.”
“Somep’n queer ’bout dis yere, capt’n!” chimed in another chipper.
Joe’s eye lighted on Sam, standing rather sheepishly in the rear.
“Sam, what’s happened? What’s the matter with this gang?” he called.