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Birt rode on rapidly once more, leaving this choice syndicate settling down again to the mud pies. The woods gave way presently and revealed, close to a precipice, Nate's home.
All this was sharpened by the certainty that the mineral was only valueless pyrites, and the prescience of Nate's anger when this fact should come to his knowledge, and prudence no longer restrain him. His rage would vent itself on his luckless victim for every cent, every mill, that the discovery of the "fools' gold" had cost him.
Olivia was boss from then on, and Scudder wa'n't allowed to land on his own island. And pretty soon they all went away, flyin' machine and all, and now Gus and Olivia are married." "Well, by gum!" cried Wingate. "Say, that must have broke Nate's heart completely. All that good money goin' to the poor. Ha! ha!" "Yes," said Captain Sol, with a broad grin.
She nodded her head convincingly, and the great ruffle on her cap shook in corroboration. "But I hain't never hed the right medjure o' respec' out'n Nate, an' his dad hain't, nuther." Birt listened vaguely to this account of his friend's filial shortcomings, his absent eyes fixed upon the wide landscape, and his mind busy with the anxious problems of Nate's broken promises.
"I forgive you all right because we've found the watch. If we hadn't found it, I wouldn't! But don't you 'jolly' me again, Nate Pollard, or you'll catch it!" This did not sound very forgiving; but neither had Nate's remark sounded very penitent. Nate smiled good-naturedly and seemed satisfied.
Why, that's Augustus! AUGUSTUS! well, I'll be switched! "Augustus Tolliver was Nate's nephew from up Boston way. Him and Nate was livin' together at that time. Huldy Ann, Mrs. Scudder, was out West, in Omaha, takin' care of a cousin of hers who was a chronic invalid and, what's more to the purpose, owned a lot of stock in copper mines.
"Ter gin Nate's grant back ter him," they both replied in a breath. "I hev not got it!" cried poor Birt tumultuously. "I never stole it! I dunno whar it be!" The tanner's expression changed from paternal kindliness to contemptuous anger. "Air ye goin' ter keep on bein' a liar, Birt, ez well ez a thief?" he said sternly. "I dunno whar it be," reiterated Birt desperately.
Near Lake Sandford, where were large tracks of raspberry and wild cherry, I saw numbers of them. A boy whom we met, driving home some stray cows, said it was the "partridge-bird," no doubt from the resemblance of its note, when disturbed, to the cluck of the partridge. Nate's Pond contained perch and sunfish but no trout. Its water was not pure enough for trout.
An' dad gin his cornsent ter Nate ter let me work a month an' better fur him, ter pay out'n debt fur the shoat." "What work be you-uns goin' ter do?" Birt had a strong impression, amounting to a conviction, that there was something behind all this, which he was slowly approaching. "Why," said Tim, in surprise, "hain't ye hearn bout'n Nate's new land what he hev jes' got 'entered' ez he calls it?
Presently he began anew, unabashed by the silence of the grave and contemplative group. "This hyar tan hev got sorter moist atop now; I wonder ef that thar grant o' Nate's got spi'led ennywise with the damp." Birt winced.
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