They had noticed “No trespassing” signs, but Kitty had thought that applied to hunting and fishing. “We aren’t doing a bit of harm,” Kitty told the old man. “The trees are so beautiful. There’s no reason why we shouldn’t enjoy them.” “Yas’m, dat so, but jus’ de same boss don’t like nobody meddlin’ round the pine thicket. Might set foire an’ bu’n it up.” “We aren’t going to cook anything. We brought a cold lunch. And if we did make a fire we’d put out every spark.” “Yas’m, dat whut I tell him too. I been libin’ all mah life in dat shack yonder.” The old man indicated a log cabin in a clearing a little farther south. “I ain’t neber sot foire to de woods. But he can’t be satisfy when he lease de place las’ year till I come to lib in dat new house behind his.” “Oh, he only rented the island last year?” asked Brad. “Yessuh! An’ I has to be powerful keerful ’bout whut I does since he been here. I wouldn’t be down here fishin’ me mah ole fish place, ’cept he gone to town fer de day.” “So you’re enjoying yourself while he’s gone,” said Kitty kindly. “Yas’m. I sho’ gits lonesome fer de ole times an’ de easy ways, ’fore dis island was a hog lot.” “Oh, so your boss is the man who gets the refuse from the hospital?” asked Brad. “Yassuh. I ain’ neber see so much slop since I been born. In de ole days my Massa wouldn’t ov tetched he hand to sich wuk, but not Mr. Beeson. He go fer dat stuff all de time hisself.” Kitty thought the old man looked to be eighty or ninety. His bloodshot eyes were deeply sunken in his wrinkled dusty brown face, while his once-large frame had little padding left on the bones. “It was nice of Mr. Beeson to let you continue to live here after he rented the island,” Kitty remarked, hoping to draw him out further. “Yassum, but he can’t he’p hisse’f. Massa’s son, up nawth, whut own de island all dese years, say he won’t rent to nobody, lessen I kin stay here de res’ o’ mah days an’ lib in peace.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Illustration: _“I Sho’ Gits Lonesome,” the Old Negro Said_] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ “I suppose the former owner wouldn’t like it, if he knew you had been moved from your old home,” said Kitty. “No’m, he sho’ wouldn’t. But dey tells me young Massa done been sent crost de big water to fight dem Japs, an’ I ain’t had nobody to write him.” “I’d be glad to write for you,” Kitty offered. She was strangely drawn to this old man, not only because of the hints he had let slip to throw more light on the mystery they were trying to solve, but because she knew he represented the best of a forgotten era in the south. “Dat moighty kind o’ you, li’l Missie, but I don’t know where to send de letter nohow.” “Is he in the Army or Navy?” “De Navy, fer sho’. Us fambly always been people ov de sea.” “Brad, do you have a pencil and a bit of paper?” “Sure,” said Brad, producing what she desired.