Pant held it out to him. “What you puffing about?”
“Dat ticket man chased me.”
“What for?”
“Don’t know, boss.”
For a moment they were silent.
“Say, Boss,” Snowball whispered after a time, “what you s’pose made dat ere red splotch on the groun’?”
“What red spot?” There was a suspicion of a smile lurking about the corner of Pant’s mouth.
“Man! Don’ you know? ’Roun’ dat fiah?”
“Oh, yes; I wasn’t looking just then.”
“Say, Boss!” The boy was whispering again. “I ain’t afraid of almost nuthin’—nuthin’ but signs and ghosts. You s’pose dat were a sign?”