"Well, the man you buried is the man I'm after."
"Yes, an' old Belcher sent ye. I knowed it. I smelt the old feller when I heern yer paddle. When a feller works for the devil it ain't hard to guess what sort of a angel he is. Ye must feel mighty proud o' yer belongins."
"Jim, I'm a lawyer; it's my business. I do what I'm hired to do."
"Well," responded Jim, "I don't know nothin' about lawyers, but I'd rather be a natural born cuss nor a hired one."
Yates laughed, but Jim was entirely sober. The lawyer saw that he was unwelcome, and that the sooner he was out of Jim's way, the better that freely speaking person would like it. So he said quietly:
"Jim, I see that I am not welcome, but I bear you no ill will. Keep me to-night, and to-morrow show me this man's bones, and sign a certificate of the statements you have made to me, and I will leave you at once."
The woodsman made no more objection, and the next morning, after breakfast, the three men went together and found the place of the pauper's burial. It took but a few minutes to disinter the skeleton, and, after a silent look at it, it was again buried, and all returned to the cabin. Then the lawyer, after asking further questions, drew up a paper certifying to all the essential facts in the case, and Jim signed it.
"Now, how be ye goin' to get back to Sevenoaks?" inquired Jim.
"I don't know. The man who brought me in is not to come for me for a fortnight."
"Then ye've got to huff it," responded Jim.