off and he was able to move without feeling
as if each muscle were tied in cramping knots.

"May I pay Jeems a visit?" he asked as they went out into the hall.
Rupert nodded toward a door across the corridor.

"In there. He's a stubborn piece of goods. Reminds me of you at times.
If he'd ever get rid of that scowl of his, he'd be even more like you.
He warms to Ricky, but you'd think I was a Chinese torturer the way he
acts when I go in." There was a shade of irritation in Rupert's voice.

"Maybe he's afraid of you."

"But what for?" Rupert stared at the boy in open surprise.

"Well, you do have rather a commanding air at times," Val countered. If
Ricky had told Rupert nothing of Jeems' confession, he wasn't going to.

"So that's what you really think of me!" observed Rupert. "Go reason
with that wildcat of yours if you want to. I'm beginning to believe that
you are two of a kind." He turned abruptly down the hall.

Val opened the door of the bedroom. The sunlight was fading fast and
already the corners of the large room were filled with the gray of dusk.
But light from the windows swept full across the bed and its occupant.
Val hobbled stiffly toward it.

"Hello." The brown face on the pillow did not change expression as Val
greeted the swamper. "How do you feel now?"

"Bettah," Jeems answered shortly. "Ah'm good but they won't le' me up."

"The Doc says you're in for a couple of days," Val told him.

Somehow Jeems looked smaller, shrunken, as he lay in that oversized bed.
And he had lost that air of indolent arrogance which had made him seem
so independent in their swamp and garden meetings. It was as if Val were
looking down upon a younger and less confident edition of the swamper he
had known.

"What does he think?" There was urgency in that question.

"Who's he?"

"Yo' brothah."

"Rupert? Why, he's glad to have you here," Val answered.

"Does he know 'bout--"

Val shook his head.

"Tell him!" ordered the swamper. "Ah ain't a-goin' to stay undah his
ruff lessen he knows. 'Tain't fitten."

At this clean-cut statement of the laws of hospitality, Val nodded. "All
right. I'll tell him. But what were you after here, Jeems? I'll have to
tell him that, too, you know. Was it the Civil War treasure?"

Jeems turned his head slowly. "No." Again the puzzled frown twisted his
straight, finely marked brows. "What do Ah want wi' treasure? Ah don't
know what Ah was lookin' fo'. Mah grandpappy--"

"Val, su