“No,” said Nat, in disgust. “Have you been treating them to some stories, too? They left some work to do back at home, and went there to attend to it. You scared one fellow out but you can’t scare me out.”
“I never was so sorry for anything in my life,” said the man. “I saw that Peleg could be easily frightened, and so I started that ghost story on him.”
“Have you got anything to eat in the store?” asked Nat, who did not want to talk about the ghosts any more. “They took away all the provisions I had.”
“Of course we have,” said the man briskly. “What do you want? Say. Did you find that money you were looking for?”
“What money?” asked Nat, in surprise.
“Oh, come Nat, there is no use of your trying to play off on us in that style,” said the storekeeper; and there was just a shade that darkened his brow as if he were getting angry. “You went up there to dig up some money, didn’t you, now?”
“I wish you would give me those provisions and let me go along back,” said Nat, who did not much like the way the man eyed him. “I don’t know anything about any money.”
“See here, Nat,” whispered the man, putting his face close to the boy’s ear and holding his arm, “if you will tell me where that money is—”
“I tell you I don’t know anything about it,” declared Nat, pulling away from the man’s grasp. “If you don’t want to sell me some grub, I will go elsewhere.”
“Come with me; I want to see you,” whispered the storekeeper, retaining his hold upon Nat’s arm and drawing him toward a side door.