Brent said, “Yes. Who’s he?”
“Wa’l, he ain’t,” the man said, “but he was. Th’ best thing I can say abaout that ole codger is, he’s dead.”
Brent rested his arms on the steering wheel and talked kind of careless, sort of. He said, “I was just wondering if the place was for sale. So he was a queer ole codger, the deacon, hey?”
The man said, “Yes, en’ more’n that as I’ve heared tell. I guess young Snookbeck ain’t calc’latin’ on sellln’ th’ place. I reckon nobody raound these parts is wantin’ ter buy it, neither. Yer see thar was a kind of a mystery ’baout ole Ebenezer. Some folks even say his haouse is haunted by a chap he murdered. But I reckon he wasn’ as bad as all that.”
Oh, boy, you should have seen Pee-wee! He just sat there staring, his eyes as big as dinner plates. He didn’t say a word, only just stared.
Brent said, “House of mystery, hey? The Frock-coated Villyan! That would be a good name for a photoplay, huh?”
That man leaned his elbow on the side of the car and said, kind of friendly like, as if we were special friends of his, he said, “Wa’l, ’baout, let’s see, nigh onter ten year ago, thar was a couple of young chaps wearin’ khaki like you chaps, come out this way en they wuz rootin’ raound on th’ deacon’s farm. They weren’t plantin’, that was sure; and they weren’t no farm hands. Nobody seemed jest able ter find out ezactly what they were, ’cause they never talked ter nobody. Aunt Josie Anne, daown th’ road a piece, asked one uv ’em who he thought he was. He said he thought he was Santa Claus, but he wasn’ sure. They wuz kind o’ comics, both uv ’em. Wa’l, I ain’t ashamed ter tell no man who I am.”
Brent said, “You’re right,” just sort of to encourage him to talk.
The man said, “Wa’l, they stayed at th’ deacon’s house ’n’ one night they wuz out with a lantern in the middle of the night, under the big tree near th’ deacon’s haouse. Steub Berry, he ’laowed they wuz buryin’ treasure thar. Some folks had it them two strangers wuz Mexican spies ’n’ others reckoned they wuz army deserters. Th’ ole deacon, he jes’ laughed and said we couldn’ guess. He wouldn’ deny nuthin’. All of a sudden, ker-bang, they disappeared jes’ like that ’n’ some folks said th’ deacon murdered both uv ’em ter git th’ treasure. My wife, she allus had it, they come off some ranch or other with a lot uv stealin’s. Wa’l, ’twas a nine days’ wonder ’n arter that folks kinder fought shy of th’ deacon.”
Brent said, “And he’s dead now?”