"What's he searchin' Massa Burton's pockets for?" he asked himself. "Spec's he's going to rob him. Didn't think the old man was so mean before. I'd jes' like to jump out and scare him."
Meanwhile Wolverton finished his discreditable business, happily unconscious that any one was witness of his mean act. Then, as already stated, he got up and walked swiftly away, not venturing to look back. Had he done so he would have seen Clip stealing from behind the tree which had served to screen him from observation, and running towards the wreck.
Clip had never before seen death, but there was something in the mute look of Richard Burton that awed the soul of the colored boy.
Clip had an affectionate heart. He felt that Richard Burton must be dead, and the thought overpowered him.
"Poor Massa Burton!" he cried, bursting into tears. "He's done dead, sure 'nough. Oh, what will we do?"
A minute later Clip bounded off like a deer, to carry the sad news to the village.
He met the village doctor driving along in his top buggy, and he quickly called out to him: "Go quick, Massa Doctor, for de love of God. Poor Massa Burton's upset himself, and I 'spec's he's dead."
"Whereabouts, Clip?" demanded the doctor, startled.
So Clip, seated beside the doctor, guided him to the fatal spot.
The doctor lost no time in jumping out of his buggy and approaching the fallen man. He didn't need to feel his pulse, or place his hand over his heart. To his practiced eye there were other indications that disclosed the terrible truth.
"Is he dead?" asked Clip, in an awed voice.
"Yes, Clip; your poor master is dead," answered the doctor, sadly.
He had known Richard Burton well, and, like all the rest of his neighbors, had a warm esteem for him.
"I don't know, Massa Doctor; 'deed I don't," answered Clip. "I was walkin' along, when I saw the colt runnin' like mad, wid his harness on, and I 'spected something had happened. So I came up, and dat's what I saw."
"We can't do anything, Clip, except to see that he is carried home. I dread to break the news to his poor wife."
Meanwhile Aaron Wolverton had locked himself in his office. He drew the receipt from his pocket, read it through carefully, and chuckled:
"I'll get the money out of the widder. She can't prove that the interest has been paid! But I don't care so much for that as I do to get even with that impudent rascal Bob. He'll rue this day, as sure as my name is Aaron Wolverton."
