The squatter did not think it necessary to finish the sentence. He stopped, took his ready knife from his pocket and looked around for a switch. This alarmed Sam, who made haste to assure his father that he had the bearings of the hiding-place of the valises firmly fixed in his memory, and that he could go to it without the least difficulty.
“If you do that, you won’t get into no trouble with your pap,” answered Matt, winking at Sam, and then cutting down a hickory which he proceeded to trim very carefully. “But you an’ Jakey do have sich short memories sometimes that I’m afeared to trust you; so I’ll be on the safe side. If I find the money where you say you left it, I won’t say a word about the twenty-four mile tramp you made me take for nothing; but I’ll l’arn you that the next time you find six thousand dollars you had better bring it to me without no foolin’, instead of keepin’ it for your own use.”
These words frightened Sam, who saw very plainly that he need not hope to escape without a whipping, even if his father found the money. And if he didn’t find it, if some one had been there during his absence and stolen the valises from him, as he had stolen them from Jake, then what would happen? Sam thought of his brother’s battered countenance and shuddered. Keeping his gaze fixed upon his father’s face, he moved his arms up and down, and discovered that they were not as tightly bound as he had supposed. In fact, Sam told himself that if his father would go away and leave him alone for two minutes he would not find him when he returned.
“How do you like the looks of that, Sammy?” said Matt, shutting up his knife and giving the switch a vicious cut in the air. “It’s mighty onhandy an’ disagreeable to be a pap sometimes, leastwise when you’ve got two sich ongrateful boys for sons as you an’ Jakey be. This is all your own doin’s an’ not mine.”
“I’ll never do it ag’in,” whined Sam, who wasn’t half as badly frightened now as he was before he found that he could move his hands. “The next time I find six thousand dollars layin’ around loose in the woods I’ll bring it to you; the very minute I find it, too.”
“Then you’ll be doin’ jest right an’ I won’t switch you. Now we’re all ready an’ you can toddle on agin. I hope them valises ain’t a very fur ways from here, ’cause I’m in a monstrous hurry to handle the money that’s into ’em.”
So saying the squatter picked up the free end of the rope and followed Sam as if he were a blind man, and Sam the dog that was leading him. He must have been pretty near blind, or else he did not make the good use of his eyes he generally did, for he surely ought to have seen that the cord that encircled the boy’s wrists was very slack, and that it would have fallen to the ground if Sam had not kept his arms spread out to hold it in place. After two miles had been passed over in this way, Sam stopped in front of the evergreen in which he had placed the valises. The big drops of perspiration that stood on his forehead had not been brought out by the heat, but by the mental strain to which he was subjected. From the bottom of his heart Sam wished he knew what was going to happen during the next two minutes.
“Why don’t you go on?” Matt demanded.
“Here we be,” answered Sam, faintly. “Look in that tree an’ you’ll find ’em if somebody ain’t took ’em out.”
“Whoop!” yelled Matt, knocking his heels together and making the switch whistle around his head. “Took ’em out? Sam, do you know what them few words mean to you? If any body has took ’em out I’m sorry for you. Did you say the valises was in the tree?”