down to interview his dusky satellite, who
appeared about to burst with restrained information. As soon as uncorked
that individual began to flow volubly:

"I sho' done seed 'em, Massa Jack; I done seed 'em both."

"Both? Both who?"

"Massa Waite, sah, an' dat black debble dat we was huntin' fo'. It was a
mos' surprisin' circumstance, sah--a mos' surprisin' circumstance."

"Well, go on; where did you see them? Do you mean they were together?"

The negro took a long breath, evidently overcome by the importance of
his message, and unable to conjure up words wholly satisfactory to his
ideas.

"It sho' am de strangest t'ing, Massa Jack, ebber I prognosticated. I
was jest comin' roun' de corner ob Sheeny Joe's shebang, back dar by de
blacksmith shop, when--de Lawd save me!--yere come ol' Massa Waite, a
ridin' 'long on a cream colo'd pinto just as much alibe as ebber he was.
Yas, sah; he's whiskers was blowin' round, an' I could eben yeah him
cussin' de hoss, when he done shy at a man what got up sudden like
from a cart-wheel he was settin' on. I done took one look at dat secon'
fellar, and seed it was dat black debble from down Carson way. Den I
ducked inter de blacksmith shop out 'er sight. I sho' didn't want Mister
Hawley to git no chance at dis nigger--I sho' didn't."

"Did they speak to one another?" Keith asked, anxiously. "Did you hear
what was said?"

"Sho' dey talked, Massa Jack. I sorter reckon dey was dar for dat
special purpose. Sutt'nly, sah, dey went right at talkin' like dey hed
som't'ing on dey minds. Ol' Massa Waite was a sittin' straight up on de
hoss, an' dat black debble was a standin' dar in front ob him. Ol'
Massa Waite he was mad from de first jump off, an' I could heah most
eberyt'ing he said, but Mr. Hawley he grin de same way he do when he
deal faro, an' speaks kinder low. De ol' man he swear fine at him, he
call him eberyt'ing--a damn liar, a damn scoundrel--but Mr. Hawley he
jest grin, and say ober de same ting."

"What was that, Neb?"

"Som't'ing 'bout a gal, Massa Jack--an' a law suit--an' how de ol' man
better settle up widout no fightin'. I jest didn't git de whole ob it,
he talked so low like."

"What did Waite say?"

"Well, mostly he jest cussed. He sho' told dat black debble 'bout what
he thought ob him, but he didn't nebber once call him Hawley--no, sah,
not once; he done call him Bartlett, or somet'ing or odder like dat.
But he sutt'nly read dat man's pedigree from way back