“Why, he wouldn’t let me, William Jones. He says he’ll smash me if I come here and talk to you.”
As Matt spoke, her bosom heaved and her eyes flashed fire.
“He ain’t at home to-day,” she said, in answer to the young man’s query concerning the ex-wrecker; “he’s gone up to market town, and won’t be back before night.”
As Brinkley looked at her, a sudden thought seemed to strike him.
“Matt,” he said, “you and I will go wreck-hunting this afternoon; that is, if you’ve no objection.”
She certainly had none: wherever he went she seemed willing to follow. In a very little while the two had started off. It was Brinkley who led this time, Matt walking along beside him like a confiding child.
“By the way, Matt,” he said presently, “you told me once of treasures being hidden amongst the sand-hills. Did anybody ever find any?”
“Not that I know on.”
“William Jones, for instance?”
“No. Leastways, I don’t know.”