"Dat’s all right, Boss. Ah don’t mean no offense. Dat tree done have a bad name, an’ us folks aroun’ yere has begun to kinda keep our eyes open." "Well," inquired Forrester, "what do you think I’m doing at the tree?" "Ah dunno, Boss. Dat’s what Ah’m tryin’ to fine out." There was a slight pause as the two men again looked each other over. To Forrester, the negro, in spite of his size, appeared to be really a harmless individual. Possibly he was a gardener in the vicinity. The negro on his part could see that Forrester was a gentleman, and therefore hardly likely to be one of the supposed blackmailing gang who had made this tree famous for miles around. His changed attitude was clearly apparent in the manner in which he next addressed Forrester. "Yo’ mus’ scuse me, suh, fo’ buttin’ in on yo’ disaway, but mah Missey done tole me to watch eberybody dat hung aroun’ dis yere tree. Ah only been doin’ mah duty, suh." Forrester accepted this apology in the spirit in which it was tendered, and assumed a more tolerant attitude toward the negro. "You live around here, do you?" he inquired. "Yas, suh. Jes’ a little way up de road on de oder side." "Gardener, I suppose," suggested Forrester. "Yas, suh. Dat an’ some mo.’ Mah wife, Marthy, an’ me done be caretakahs fo’ ole Mistah Bradbury. His house is jes’ up de road aways. Him an’ his wife done be liben in Califo’ny, suh." "Well, arn’t you and your wife afraid to live alone out in the woods, with bad men all around?" asked Forrester, with mock gravity. "Yas, suh. We done be mighty afeared sometimes. But we ain’t alone no mo’." "I thought you said your folks were in California?" "Yas, suh, Ah done say dat. But we done got a young lady liben dere now, Boss. She ain’t been dere long, suh—only since las’ Sato’day. She’s a mighty fine young lady, Boss, an’ Ah’s skeered dis yere tree am goin’ to dribe her away. She done seem jes’ fas’nated wif dis tree—hangin’ aroun’ all de time, Boss." "Well!" murmured Forrester, thoughtfully. It was strange that a young woman should take such an interest in this tree, associated as it was with mystery, menace and the blood of victims. "You’d better look out for her," he added. "Some of these bad men may get her." "Say, Boss, what yo’ mean bad men?" Forrester looked his surprise. "Why," he explained, "the bad men who make people put money in this tree and then come and get it out." "Dat ain’t no men, Boss!" "No men!" repeated Forrester. "No, Boss. Jes’ hants!" "What nonsense are you talking now?" queried Forrester. "Dat ain’t no nonsense, suh. Dere ain’t nobody aroun’ yere, ’ceptin’ maybe dat bad niggah woman dat libes back in dem woods, dat would go neah dis tree in de night time."