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 voice, returned the deed, and proceeded across the street to the livery-stable, which was fronted by an old mulberry-tree, with several chairs under it. In one of these chairs he would sit for the remainder of the day, making an occasional loud remark about the weather or the crops, and watching the horses pass in and out of the stable.

Siner had vaguely enjoyed old Mr. Tomwit's discomfiture over the deed, if it was discomfiture that had moved the old gentleman to his sententious profanity. But the negro did not understand Henry Hooker's action at all. The banker had abused his position of trust as holder of a deed in escrow snapping up the sale himself; then he had sold Peter the Dillihay place. It was a queer shift.

Tump Pack caught his principal's mood with that chameleon-like mental quality all negroes possess.

“Dat Henry Hooker,” criticized Tump, “allus was a lil ole dried-up snake in de grass.”

“He abused his position of trust,” said Peter, gloomily; “I must say, his motives seem very obscure to me.”

“Dat sho am a fine way to put hit,” said Tump, admiringly.

“Why do you suppose he bought in the Tomwit tract and sold me the Dillihay place?”

Asked for an opinion, Tump began twiddling military medal and corrugated the skin on his inch-high brow.