Part 4 (1/2)
”Yes!”
”Fool. Don't you see”----
”What?”
”It was a baked potato.”
Dumphy sat dumfounded.
”Why should they rub it? It takes off the cracklin' skins,” he said.
”They've got such fine stomachs!” answered Mrs. Bracket, with an oath.
Dumphy was still aghast with the importance of his discovery.
”He said he knew where there was more!” he whispered eagerly.
”Where?”
”I didn't get to hear.”
”Fool! Why didn't ye rush in and grip his throat until he told yer?”
hissed Mrs. Brackett, in a tempest of baffled rage and disappointment.
”Ye ain't got the s.p.u.n.k of a flea. Let me get hold of that gal--Hus.h.!.+
what's that?”
”He's moving!” said Dumphy.
In an instant they had both changed again into slinking, crouching, baffled animals, eager only for escape. Yet they dared not move.
The old man had turned over, and his lips were moving in the mutterings of delirium. Presently he called ”Grace!”
With a sign of caution to her companion, the woman leaned over him.
”Yes, deary, I'm here.”
”Tell him not to forget. Make him keep his promise. Ask him where it is buried!”
”Yes, deary!”
”He'll tell you. He knows!”
”Yes, deary!”
”At the head of Monument Canon. A hundred feet north of the lone pine.
Dig two feet down below the surface of the cairn.”