"Half of it ought to go to me," said Sally, who was quite as fond of money as her brother.
"I don't know about that. But where's the boy?"
"I don't know. He may have gone over to see the Burtons. He's there most of the time."
"I'll foller him."
Aaron Wolverton went into the shed, and came out with a horse-whip. He did not keep a horse, but still he kept a whip. For what purpose Sam could have told if he had been asked.
"If the boy's become a thief, I want to know it," said Wolverton to himself.
Sam had really started on the way to the Burtons. His uncle struck his trail, so to speak, and followed him. He caught up with his nephew about half a mile away. Sam had thrown himself down on the ground under a cotton-wood tree, and gave himself up to pleasant dreams of the independence which manhood would bring. In his reverie he unconsciously spoke aloud. "When I'm a man, Uncle Aaron won't dare to boss me around as he does now."
The old man, creeping stealthily near, overheard the words, and a malicious smile lighted up his wrinkled face.
"Oho, that's what he's thinkin' of already," he muttered. "What more?"
"I wish I could live with the Burtons," proceeded the unconscious Sam. "They would treat a boy decently."