“Hallo! Jeph, is that you?” exclaimed Bax, springing forward and gazing into the old man’s face.
“Ay, it’s me, and I’m sorry you’ve found me out, for I like to be let alone in my grief.”
“Why, Jeph, you don’t need to be testy with your friend. I’ll quit ye this moment if you bid me; but I think you might find a warmer and more fitting bed for your old bones than poor Mary Bax’s grave. Come, let me help you up.”
Bax said this so kindly, that old Jeph’s temporary anger at having been discovered passed away.
“Well, well,” said he, “the only two people who have found me out are the two I like best, so it don’t much matter.”
“Indeed,” exclaimed the young man in surprise, “who is number two, Jeph?”
“Tommy Bogey. He found me here on the night when Long Orrick was chased by Supple Jim.”
“Strange, he never told me about it,” said Bax.
“’Cause I told him to hold his tongue,” replied Jeph, “and Tommy’s a good fellow and knows how to shut his mouth w’en a friend asks him to—as I now ask you, Bax, for I don’t want people know that I come here every night.”
“What! do you come here every night?” cried Bax in surprise.