Whatever a ghost has, turns to ghost-
stuff. They've got to have their things, like anybody
else. You see, yourself, that its clothes was turned to
ghost-stuff. Well, then, what's to hender its bag from
turning, too? Of course it done it."
That was reasonable. I couldn't find no fault with
it. Bill Withers and his brother Jack come along by,
talking, and Jack says:
"What do you reckon he was toting?"
"I dunno; but it was pretty heavy."
"Yes, all he could lug. Nigger stealing corn from
old Parson Silas, I judged."
"So did I. And so I allowed I wouldn't let on to
see him."
"That's me, too."
Then they both laughed, and went on out of hearing.
It showed how unpopular old Uncle Silas had got to be
now. They wouldn't 'a' let a nigger steal anybody
else's corn and never done anything to him.
We heard some more voices mumbling along towards
us and getting louder, and sometimes a cackle of a
laugh. It was Lem Beebe and Jim Lane. Jim Lane
says:
"Who? -- Jubiter Dunlap?"
"Yes."
"Oh, I don't know. I reckon so. I seen him spad-
ing up some ground along about an hour ago, just be-
fore sundown -- him and the parson. Said he guessed
he wouldn't go to-night, but we could have his dog if
we wanted him."
"Too tired, I reckon."
"Yes -- works so hard!"
"Oh, you bet!"
They cackled at that, and went on by. Tom said we
better jump out and tag along after them, because they
was going our way and it wouldn't be comfortable to
run across the ghost all by ourselves.
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