Bob laughed and started ahead.
“Hol’ on, Mistah Bob,” exclaimed Jerry earnestly. “Dis ole pirate wif de long sword, he’s a colored pirate. Yas, sah, black as mah ole mammy.”
“Well,” said Bob, scenting at once some new fabrication of Jerry’s fertile brain, “what did the colored pirate say?”
“He say,” went on Jerry solemnly, “he say: ‘Black boy, Ah been watchin’ yo’.’ Yas, sah,” explained Jerry hastily. “Dem ole spooks kin shorely watch yo’ thouten yo’ seein’ ’em. De ole pirate he say: ‘Black boy, Ah been watchin’ yo’. Ah done selec’ yo’ fo’ to tell yo’ whar Ah buried mah gold’.”
“And did he?” interrupted Bob, with a smile.
The sharp-eyed Jerry saw he had made his point. In his ignorant way, he realized that the romantically inclined Bob liked nothing better than these stories of buried treasure and pirates.
“Did he?” repeated Jerry significantly. “Dat ole pirate Ah reckon was de onliest colored pirate in de worl’. He say: ‘Black boy, yo’ ain’t gwine to know how come it so, but yo’ alls is related to we alls. Yo’ is my heir’.”
“So you are descended from a cut-throat villain?” exclaimed Bob, with mock seriousness. “Heir of a bloody pirate?”
“Ah cain’t hep dat,” urged Jerry. “But dem’s his words. An’ he say: ‘Black boy, dar’s gold and jewels waitin’ fo’ yo’; dar’s a big box o’ buried treasure waitn’ fo’ yo’—’”
“Where, Jerry, where?” exclaimed Bob, with well assumed impetuousness.