“Then you have been over to the old Meeker House, have you?” inquired George as John and the colored man took their seats in the car.
“Yes, we have been there,” abruptly replied John.
“You didn’t seem to stay very long,” suggested George. “Were there any special reasons why you didn’t want to tarry any longer?”
“Dere sho’ was,” spoke up Uncle Sim, his teeth chattering as he spoke. “Yas, suh. Yas, suh, dere sho’ was.” Lifting his face toward the sky the old colored man muttered some incantations or prayers which in a measure indicated the terror which possessed him. He was trembling in every limb and when he tried to speak his lower jaw, over which he apparently had lost control, resounded as it repeatedly struck the teeth on his upper jaw.
“Never mind, Uncle Sim,” said George, noticing the abject terror of the old man. “We’ll soon be out of this. I don’t see why you went back there when you’re so afraid of the old place.”
“Yas, suh. Yas, suh,” stammered Uncle Sim. “I don’ went jes’ because dis young man ‘sist on my goin’ wif him.”
“Was he afraid to go alone?”
“Yas, suh. Yas, suh.”
“Did he think he would be less scared if there were two than he would be if he was there alone?” laughed George.
“That’s all right, George,” broke in John, “you don’t know what you’re talking about. If you had heard what we did you would have made better time than either of us when we were trying to head you off.”