"Praise de Lord, sah."

"Sam told me you wanted to see me, Uncle Ben," Custis said.

"'Bout sumfin mos' particular, sah--"

"At your service."

The old man waved to his wife to look after the boys' breakfast.

"Pile dem fish up on der plates, Hannah. Fill 'em up--fill'em up!"

"We're mos' full now!" Robbie shouted.

"No we ain't," John protested. "I jis begun."

Ben led the young master and his friend out the back door, past the long
pile of cord wood, past the chicken yard to a strong box which he had
built on tall legs under a mulberry tree. It was constructed of oak and
the neatly turned gable roof was covered with old tin carefully painted
with three coats of red. A heavy hasp, staple and padlock held the solid
door.

Ben fumbled in his pocket, drew forth his keys and opened it. The box
was his fireproof and ratproof safe in which the old man kept his
valuables. His money, his trinkets, his hammer and nails, augur and
bits, screwdriver and monkeywrench. From the top shelf he drew a tin
can. A heavy piece of linen tied with a string served as a cover.

He carefully untied the string in silence. He shook the can. The boys