The landlord, who was standing in the doorway, chuckled at this.
"There ain't many people that you could drive into that there cave at the point of the pistol," he assured us. "They think it's haunted; leastways the niggers do."
"Have niggers been in the habit of going in much?"
"Oh, more or less," the sheriff returned, "when they want to make themselves inconspicuous for any reason. I had a horse thief hide in there for two weeks last year while we were scouring the country for him. There are so many little holes; it's almost impossible to find a man. Tramps occasionally spend the night there in cold weather."
"Do you have many tramps around here?"
"Not a great many. Once in a while a nigger comes along and asks for something to eat."
"More often he takes it without asking," one of the men broke in. "A week or so ago my ole woman had a cheese an' a ham an' two whole pies that she'd got ready for a church social just disappear without a word, out o' the pantry winder. If that ain't the mark of a nigger, I miss my guess."
Terry laughed.
"If that happened in the North we should look around the neighborhood for a sick small boy."