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With suddenly sharpened perceptions, Birt realized that if he should now claim the discovery and the consequent right of thirty days' notice of Nate's intention, by virtue of the priority of entering land accorded by the statute to the finder of a mine or valuable mineral, it would be considered a groundless boast, actuated by envy and jealousy.
Why, Elam Gowdey, uncle Nate's youngest boy, broke down the platform to his barn, and went right down through it, with a load of hay. And nothin' but that hay saved his neck from bein' broke. It spilte one of his horses. "Uncle Nate had been urgin' him to fix the platform, or build a new one; but he was slack. But, as uncle Nate says, if such things are run by law, they will have to be done.
"Thar's the grant right now, in the pocket o' Nate's coat," said Tim, shifting the garment on his arm to show a stiff, white folded paper sticking out of the breast pocket. "I reckon when he tole me ter tote his gun an' coat home, he furgot the grant war in his pocket, 'kase he fairly dotes on it, an' won't trest it out'n his sight."
"Why don't you tell him you're Miss Morton," coached Willie, in a loud whisper. But the man on the steps had heard. "You're not Miss Morton, are you?" he essayed, "Miss Celestina Morton?" "I expect I am," owned Celestina nervously. "I'm your brother Elnathan's boy, Bob." Celestina crumpled weakly against the door frame. "Nate's boy!" she repeated. "Bless my soul! Bless my soul an' body!"
Pressing on through the forest, after many adventures with pine-knots, we reached, about the middle of the afternoon, our destination, Nate's Pond, a pretty sheet of water, lying like a silver mirror in the lap of the mountain, about a mile long and half a mile wide, surrounded by dark forests of balsam, hemlock, and pine, and, like the one we had just passed, a very picture of unbroken solitude.
She must suggest to Methuselah that he could find, perhaps, a more suitable book-mark for Robinson Crusoe than his piece of bread and molasses, and intimate doubts as to the propriety of Nate's standing on the table-cloth and sitting on the toast-rack. And then Moppet was at that baby again, dropping very cold pennies down his neck.
"It's a lie!" shouted one of the opposite party; "I'm able to lick e'er a Keenan that ever went on nate's leather an' that's my chat." A blow from Keenan in reply was like a spark to gunpowder.
Passing on through the forest, after many adventures with the pine knots, we reached, about the middle of the afternoon, our destination, Nate's Pond a pretty sheet of water, lying like a silver mirror in the lap of the mountain, about a mile long and half a mile wide, surrounded by dark forests of balsam, hemlock, and pine, and, like the one we had just passed, a very picture of unbroken solitude.
Nate set up night and day for six years inventin' a process fur sweatin' gold into ore; finally he gets it; how he does it, nobody knows, but he sweat gold eighteen inches into the solid rock. The first few holes he salted he gets rid of all right, then of course they catch him, and Nate's doin' time now. But say, I got respect fur Nate since readin' that piece.
Why," sez he, "jest imagine, Samantha, a hull letter wrote like that! how I'd love to send one back to Uncle Nate Gowdey. "How Uncle Nate's eyes would open, and he wouldn't want no spectacles nor nothin' to read it with, would he? I wonder if I could do it," sez he, a beginnin' to be all rousted up.
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