"Ah ain't gwine tuh try hit no mo'," returned the darky, earnestly.
"How much did Bangs give you to keep still about that iron chest?" queried Matt.
"Bangs?" echoed the darky. "Whaffur yo' call him Bangs, boss? Dat feller's name is Proctor."
"Well, Proctor, then. How much did he give you?"
"He done gib me five dollahs. Yo' ain't expectin' tuh take hit away from me, is yo'?"
"If we find you're still trying to fool us," answered Matt, severely, "we'll not only have the money taken from you, but your license, as well."
"Ah's gwine tuh do de right thing now, boss," was the earnest response. "You-all kin bank on dat."
A little later he stopped at the right place, and Matt and Dick got down from the wagon. The praline woman had repaired the damage Carl had caused her stock in trade and was still in the doorway.
"How long have you been here, aunty?" Matt asked, dropping a quarter in the negress' lap.
"All day, boss," was the answer.