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Updated: June 15, 2025
Pete and Joe had already gone to bed; Tennessee had fallen asleep while playing on the floor, and Rufe dozed peacefully in his chair. Even Mrs. Dicey nodded as she knitted, the needles sometimes dropping from her nerveless hand. Birt silently watched the group for a time in the red light of the smouldering fire and the blue flashes from without.
Tim's wits were sharpened by the keen anxiety of the crisis. He noticed the hesitation. "Ye hev hed it," he cried wildly. "Ye know ye hev been foolin' with it. Ye know 'twar you-uns!" He changed to sudden appeal. "Don't put the blame off on me, Birt," he pleaded. "I'm fairly afeared o' Nate."
The querulous cicada complained in the laurel. Birt heard the call of a jay from the woods. And then, as he once more urged the old mule on, the busy bark-mill kept up such a whir that he could hear nothing else. He was not aware of an approach till the new-comer was close upon him; in fact, the first he knew of Nate Griggs's proximity was the sight of him.
And what had he to show for it! a tract of crags and chasms and precipitous gravelly slopes and gullies worth not a mill an acre! And this was all for the office of laughing-stock has no emoluments. Where was Birt? He would hold Birt to account. Andy Byers, listening, thought how well it was for Birt that Nate no longer had the loss of the grant as a grievance.
"Hain't Nate come yit?" he ventured. The tanner suddenly put into the conversation. "War it Nate Griggs ez ye war aimin' ter trade with ter take yer place wunst in a while in the tanyard?" Birt assented. "An' he 'lowed he'd be hyar ter-day by sun-up. Rufe brung that word from him yestiddy."
"What war the word ez ye war layin' off ter say ter me?" Nate asked, curiosity vividly expressed in his face. Birt leaned back against the pile of bark and hesitated. Last night he had thought Nate the most desirable person to whom he could confide his secret whose aid he could secure. There were many circumstances that made this seem wise.
I hev got ter do my sheer o' work at home; we ain't through pullin' fodder off'n our late corn yit." Birt looked at him in silent surprise. Nate was older than his friend by several years. He was of an unruly and insubordinate temper, and did as little work as he pleased at home. He often remarked that he would like to see who could make him do what he had no mind to do.
He seemed in a fever of haste to terminate the conference and get away. He agreed to his friend's proposition and promised to be at the bark-mill bright and early in the morning. As he trudged off, Birt Dicey stood watching the receding figure. His eyes were perplexed, his mind full of anxious foreboding. He hardly knew what he feared.
Birt, returned to Canada with the third party of young emigrants, numbering over a hundred. The following is an extract from Mrs. Birt's first letter after their arrival:
Birt asked with increasing suspicion. "Las' week," said Tim carelessly. Another problem! Why had Nate not communicated with his partner about their proposed work? It seemed a special avoidance. "I onderstood ez how he aimed ter bide away longer," Birt remarked. "He did count on stayin' longer," said Tim, "but he rid night an' day ter git hyar sooner.
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