“Dey talks a langwidge I ain’t never heard round dese parts.”
“You were close enough to hear them talk?” asked Kitty.
“Mr. Beeson think I’se sleepin’. Mah sight ain’t so good no mo’, but mah hearin’ keen, an’ I know when dem stranger come ashore.”
“You heard their motorboat, I suppose,” said Brad.
“Naw suh. Dey don’ come in no motorboat. Nothin’ but ole bateau. Whilst dey was up to de house one dark night I went down to de water an’ seen it.”
Kitty’s cheeks were pale, her eyes apprehensive when she met Brad’s troubled glance.
“I hear Mr. Beeson talkin’ ’bout buyin’ dis island. You tell young Massa fer me, Missie, not to sold it. Reckon Mr. Beeson bootleggin’ or somepen. He gwine bring disgrace on dis place.”
Kitty didn’t take time to tell him that the bootlegging of other days was mild to what she now knew Mr. Beeson was doing. But suddenly she lifted her head in alarm. She had caught the sound of a distant motorboat.
“Reckon dat him now! Y’all bettah lef’ out o’ here right now,” warned Uncle Mose.