Said Selden presently: "Well, then, I'm gonta put another question to ye, Mr. Drew. I don't want ye to think I'm tryin' to butt in, as the fella says. But s'long's Tamroy was talkin' about me, I reckon it's right an' just that I should be interested. Now, what did Tamroy tell ye Old Dad Sloan had to say 'bout this here Dan Smeed and _me_?" "He said that you and Dan Smeed were one time partners." "Oh! Uh-huh! Just so! Partners, eh? And was that the first time ye ever heard that, Mr. Drew?" "Yes, the first time," said Oliver patiently. Again that peculiar little snort of Selden. "How ye gettin' along down to the Old Ivison Place, Mr. Drew?" was Selden's abrupt shift of the conversation. "Oh, my garden is fine. And I have two colonies of bees storing up honey for me. Besides, I've located another colony up in the hills, and will get them as soon as I can get around to it." "But ye can't live on garden truck an' honey!" "I suppose I should have some locusts to go along with them," laughed Oliver; but his flight was lost on Old Man Selden. "You forget, though," the speaker added, "that I am writing for farm journals. I've sold three little articles since I settled down there. I'll get along, if my luck holds out." "Oh, yes--ye'll get along. I ain't worryin' 'bout that. I'll bet ye could draw a check right this minute that'd pay fer every acre o' land 'tween here an' Calamity Gap." "I'll bet I couldn't!" Oliver positively denied. Old Man Selden chuckled craftily. "Ye're pretty foxy, Mr. Drew--pretty foxy!" He had lowered his deep tones until Jessamy could barely distinguish words. "Yes, sir--_mighty_ foxy! A garden an' bees an' writin' for a story paper, eh? Oh, ye'll get along. I'll tell a man ye'll get along!" "I really have no other source of revenue, Mr. Selden." "Just so! I understand. Well, Mr. Drew, maybe I been a mite too bold; but I'll step in another inch or two and say this: When ye need any help down there on the Old Ivison Place, just send word to Dan Smeed's partner. D'ye understand?" "I thank you, I'm sure," Oliver told him dryly. "But really I don't think I'll need any help. My garden is so small that--" "Just so! Still, ye never can tell when a foxy fella like you'll need help. And Dan Smeed's partner'll be always ready to help. Just remember that." "Help with what?" asked Oliver testingly. "In watchin' the dead," was Selden's surprising answer, spoken in a crafty half-whisper. "In watching the dead!" cried his listener. "Why, I--" "Le's go in to the womenfolks now," interrupted Selden. "And keep thinkin' over this, Mr. Drew. Always ready to help--d'ye savvy? And don't ye pay no attention to that there supposed gang that they call the Poison Oakers. They ain't no such gang. But if anybody does try to bother ye, tell me. Get me? Tell Dan Smeed's partner. He'll help ye watch the dead." "You're talking in riddles," Oliver snorted. "I don't understand--"