“Yes, I reckon this place is the best fur a boy like him,” acquiesced the sailor. “An’ then, ye orter be his guardeen. S’posin’ he had prop’ty fallin’ to him now—you’d orter hev th’ handlin’ of it till he’s of age.”
“Prop’ty! I guess ther’ won’t be none ter fall to him,” sniffed Uncle Arad. “I ain’t a dyin’ man, by no means, an’ his pa didn’t leave a cent. Didn’t even hev that brig o’ his’n insured.”
“I dunno erbout that,” said the sailor shrewdly.
“What don’t ye know erbout?” demanded Arad suspiciously. “The Silver Swan wasn’t insured, were she?”
“I reckon not.”
“Then what d’ye mean?”
Arad’s piercing eyes were fixed searchingly on his companion’s face, but the sailor was not easily disturbed.
“Well, now, I’ll put a case to ye—jest a s’posin’ case, now mind ye,” he said calmly, as Arad, now thoroughly interested in the matter, let the old horse walk along the muddy highway. “S’posin’ now this ’ere Cap’n Tarr had knowed erbout a buried treasure, ’r some sich thing, an’ he’d writ erbout it, an’ give the papers ter another man—his mate, fur instance—ter be given ter his son.
“Now, nat’rally, if ther’ was any money in it fur this Brandon, you’d orter know erbout it, hadn’t ye? You bein’ th’ boy’s guardeen, you’d orter handle that money; un’ if I could help you ter the gettin’ o’ that money, I’d orter hev a part of it, eh?”
Old Arad stared at him with wide open eyes, and the hand which held the reins trembled visibly.