Nat laid down his bundles again and the man turned to get the implement he had spoken of, and while he was getting it down he kept his eyes fastened on Nat’s face. But he said nothing more and saw him take his purchases and leave the store.
“Now maybe that story will do and maybe it won’t,” said the man, as he came out from behind the counter and watched Nat going along the street. “There is something else that you want to dig for. I wonder if it is the old man’s money?”
“They say that he had sights and gobs of it when he buried it to keep it out of the hands of the rebels,” said a man who was seated in the back part of the store, and who now came up to listen to what the storekeeper had to say. “But the rebels didn’t get none of it. He hid it where they couldn’t find it.”
“They say he is living up to Jonas Keeler’s,” said the first.
“Old man Nickerson is dead. He has been dead two or three days. It is a wonder you had not heard of it.”
“Well, sir, that boy is going to dig for the money,” said the storekeeper, doubling up his huge fist and bringing it down upon the counter. “Now what be we going to do about it!”
“I don’t know of any other way than for me and you to go up there and watch him while he digs for it,” said the customer, in a whisper. “When he gets it dug up, we’ll just take it.”
“And what will the boy do?” asked the storekeeper.
“Oh, we can easy fool him. Let us play ghosts.”
That was something new to the storekeeper. He drew nearer to his customer and the two whispered long and earnestly. At length they seemed to agree upon a plan, for the customer went out and the storekeeper went back to his place behind the counter.