NRLF 
 
 
 I! 
 
 

BOOKS BY 
 
 "Cfmrlea (sbert Cratrtiocfe." 
 
 IN THE TENNESSEE MOUNTAINS. Short Sto 
 ries. i6mo, $1.25. 
 
 DOWN THE RAVINE. A Story for Young People. 
 Illustrated. i6mo, $1.25. 
 
 THE PROPHET OF THE GREAT SMOKY MOUN 
 TAINS. A Novel. (In Press. ) 
 
 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. 
 
 Publishers, 
 4 PARK STREET, BOSTON. 
 
DOWN THE BAVINE 
 
 BY 
 
 CHAELES EGBERT CRADDOCK 
 
 LUTHOB OF "IN THE TENNESSEE MOUNTAINS," "THE PROPHET OP THE 
 GREAT SMOKY MOUNTAINS," ETC. 
 
 
 BOST.ON 
 
 HOUGHTOX, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY 
 New York: 11 East Seventeenth Street 
 
 1885 
 
Copyright, 1885, 
 By M. N. MUBFREE. 
 
 All rights reserved. 
 
 The Riverside Pras, Cambridge : 
 Electrotyped and Printed by H. 0. Houghton & Co. 
 
DOWN THE EAYINE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE new inoon, a gleaming scimitar, cleft 
 the gauzy mists above a rugged spur of the 
 Cumberland Mountains. The sky, still crim 
 son and amber, stretched vast and lonely above 
 the vast and lonely landscape. A fox was 
 barking in the laurel. 
 
 This was an imprudent proceeding on the 
 part of the fox, considering the value of his 
 head-gear. A young mountaineer down the 
 ravine was reminded, by the sharp, abrupt 
 sound, of a premium offered by the State of 
 Tennessee for the scalp and ears of the pestif 
 erous red fox. 
 
 All unconscious of the legislation of exter 
 mination, the animal sped nimbly along the 
 ledge of a cliff, becoming visible from the ra- 
 
 *v . 
 
 f>5 
 
4 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 vine below, a tawny streak against the gray 
 rock. Swift though he was, a jet of red light 
 flashing out in the dusk was yet swifter. The 
 echoing crags clamored with the report of a 
 rifle. The tawny streak was suddenly still. 
 Three boys appeared in the depths of the ra 
 vine and looked up. 
 
 " Thar now ! Ye can t git him off n that 
 thar ledge, Birt," said Tim Griggs. "The 
 contrairy beastis could n t hev fund a more ill- 
 convenient spot ter die ef he hed sarched the 
 mounting." 
 
 " I ain t goin ter leave him thar, though," 
 stoutly declared the boy who still held the 
 rifle. " That thar fox s scalp an his two ears 
 air wuth one whole dollar." 
 
 Tim remonstrated. " Look-a-hyar, Birt ; ef 
 ye try ter climb up this hyar bluff, ye 11 git 
 yer neck bruk, sure." 
 
 Birt Dicey looked up critically. It was a 
 rugged ascent of forty feet or more to the nar 
 row ledge where the red fox lay. Although 
 the face of the cliff was jagged, the rock 
 greatly splintered and fissured, with many 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 5 
 
 ledges, and here and there a tuft of weeds or 
 a stunted bush growing in a niche, it was very 
 steep, and would afford precarious foothold. 
 The sunset was fading. The uncertain light 
 would multiply the dangers of the attempt. 
 But to leave a dollar lying there on the fox s 
 head, that the wolf and the buzzard might 
 dine expensively to-morrow ! 
 
 " An me so tried for money ! " he exclaimed, 
 thinking aloud. 
 
 Nate Griggs, who had not before spoken, 
 gave a sudden laugh, a dry, jeering laugh. 
 
 " Ef all the foxes on the mounting war ter 
 hold a pertracted meet n, jes ter pleasure you- 
 uns, thar would n t be enough scalps an ears 
 mongst em ter make up the money ye hanker 
 fur ter buy a horse." 
 
 To buy a horse was the height of Birt s am 
 bition. His mother was a widow ; and as an 
 instance of the fact that misfortunes seldom 
 come singly, the horse on which the family de 
 pended to till their scanty acres died shortly 
 after his owner. And so, whenever the spring 
 opened and the ploughs all over the country- 
 
6 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 side were starting, their one chance to culti 
 vate a crop was to hire a mule from their 
 nearest neighbor, the tanner. Birt was the 
 eldest son, and his mother had only his work 
 to offer in payment. The proposition always 
 took the tanner in what he called a " jubious 
 time." Spring is the season for stripping the 
 trees of their bark, which is richer in tannin 
 when the sap flows most freely, and the mule 
 was needed to haul up the piles of bark from 
 out the depths of the woods to the tanyard. 
 Then, too, Jubal Perkins had his own crops to 
 put in. As he often remarked in the course 
 of the negotiation, "I don t eat tan bark 
 nor yit raw hides." Although the mule was a 
 multifarious animal, and ploughed and worked 
 in the bark-mill, and hauled from the woods, 
 and went long journeys in the wagon or under 
 the saddle, he was not ubiquitous, and it was 
 impossible for him to be in the several places 
 in which he was urgently needed at the same 
 time. Therefore, to hire him out on these 
 terms seemed hardly an advantage to his mas 
 ter. Nevertheless, this bargain was annually 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 7 
 
 struck. The poverty-stricken widow always 
 congratulated herself upon its conclusion, and 
 it never occurred to her that the amount of 
 work that Birt did in the tanyard was a dis 
 proportionately large return for the few days 
 that the tanner s mule ploughed their little 
 fields. 
 
 Birt, however, was beginning to see that a 
 boy to drive that mule around the bark-mill 
 was as essential as the mule himself. As 
 Providence had failed to furnish the tanner 
 with a son for this purpose his family con 
 sisting of several small daughters Birt sup 
 plied a long-felt want. 
 
 The boy appreciated that his simple mother 
 was over-reached, yet he could not see that 
 she could do otherwise. He sighed for in 
 dependence, for a larger opportunity. As he 
 drove the mule round the limited circuit, his 
 mind was far away. He anxiously canvassed 
 the future. He cherished fiery, ambitious 
 schemes, often scorched, poor fellow, by 
 their futility. With his time thus mortgaged, 
 he thought his help to his mother was far less 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 than it might be. But until he could have a 
 horse of his own, there was no hope no 
 progress. And for this he planned, and 
 dreamed, and saved. 
 
 Partly these considerations, partly the love 
 of adventure, and partly the jeer in Nate s 
 laugh determined him not to relinquish the 
 price set upon the fox s head. He took off his 
 coat and flung it on the ground beside his 
 rifle. Then he began to clamber up the cliff. 
 
 The two brothers, their hands in the pock 
 ets of their brown jeans trousers, stood watch 
 ing his ascent. Nate had sandy hair, small 
 gray eyes, set much too close together, and a 
 sharp, pale, freckled face. Tim seemed only 
 a mild repetition of him, as if Nature had 
 tried to illustrate what Nate would be with 
 a better temper and less sly intelligence. 
 
 Birt was climbing slowly. It was a difficult 
 matter. Here was a crevice that would hardly 
 admit his eager fingers, and again a projec 
 tion so narrow that it seemed to grudge him 
 foothold. Some of the ledges, however, were 
 wider, and occasionally a dwarfed huckleberry 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 9 
 
 bush, nourished in a fissure, lifted him up like 
 a helping hand. He quaked as he heard the 
 roots strain and creak, for he was a pretty 
 heavy fellow for sixteen years of age. They 
 did not give way, however, and up and up he 
 went, every moment increasing the depth be 
 low him and the danger. His breath was 
 short; his strength flagged, he slipped more 
 than once, giving himself a great fright ; and 
 when he reached the ledge where the dead 
 fox lay, he thought, " The varmint don t 
 wuth it." 
 
 Nevertheless he whooped out his triumph 
 to Nate and Tim in a stentorian halloo, for 
 they had already started homeward, and pres 
 ently their voices died in the distance. Birt 
 faced about and sat down on the ledge to rest, 
 his feet dangling over the depths beneath. 
 
 It was a lonely spot, walled in by the moun 
 tains, and frequented only by the deer that 
 were wont to come to lick salt from the briny 
 margin of a great salt spring far down the 
 ravine. Their hoofs had worn a deep exca 
 vation around it in the countless years and 
 
10 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 generations that they had herded here. The 
 " lick," as such places are called in Tennessee, 
 was nearly two acres in extent, and in the cen 
 tre of the depression the brackish water stood 
 to the depth of six feet or more. Birt looked 
 down at it, thinking of the old times when, 
 according to tradition, it was the stamping 
 ground of buffalo as well as deer. The dusk 
 deepened. The shadows were skulking in and 
 out of the wild ravine as the wind rose and 
 fell. They took to his fancy the form of herds 
 of the banished bison, revisiting in this impal 
 pable guise the sylvan shades where they are 
 but a memory now. 
 
 Presently he began the rugged descent, con 
 siderably hampered by the fox, which he car 
 ried by the tail. He stopped to rest when 
 ever he found a ledge that would serve as a 
 seat. Looking up, high above the jagged 
 summit of the cliff that sharply serrated the 
 zenith, he saw the earliest star, glorious in 
 the crimson and amber sky. Below, a point 
 of silver light quivered, reflected in the crim 
 son and amber waters of the "lick." The 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 11 
 
 fire-flies were flickering among the ferns ; he 
 saw about him their errant gleam. The shad 
 owy herds trooped down the mountain side. 
 
 Now and then his weight uprooted a bush 
 in his hands, and the clods fell. He missed 
 his footing as he neared the base, and came 
 down with a thump. It was a gravelly spot 
 where he had fallen, and he saw in a moment 
 that it was the summer- dried channel of a 
 mountain rill. As he pulled himself up on 
 one elbow, he suddenly paused with dilated 
 eyes. The evening light fell upon a burnished 
 glimmer ; a bit of stone was it stone ? 
 shining with a metallic lustre. 
 
 He looked at it for a moment, his eyes 
 glowing in the contemplation of a splendid 
 possibility. 
 
 What were those old stories that his father 
 used to tell of the gold excitement in Tennes 
 see in 1831, when the rich earth flung largess 
 from its hidden wealth along the romantic 
 banks of Coca Creek ! Gold had been found 
 in Tennessee why not here ? And once 
 why not again ? 
 
12 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 The idea so possessed him that while he 
 was skinning the fox his sharp knife almost 
 sacrificed one of the two ears imperatively re 
 quired by the statute, in order that the wily 
 hunter may not be tempted to present one ear 
 at a time, thus multiplying red foxes and 
 premiums therefor like FalstafFs " rogues in 
 buckram." 
 
 He took his way homeward through the 
 darkening woods, carrying the pelt in his 
 hand. It was not long before he could hear 
 the dogs barking, and as he came suddenly 
 upon a little clearing in the midst of the 
 dense, encompassing wilderness, he saw them 
 all trooping down from the unenclosed pas 
 sage between the two log-rooms which consti 
 tuted the house. An old hound had half 
 climbed the fence, but as he laid his fore-paw 
 on the topmost rail, his deep-mouthed bay was 
 hushed, he was recognizing the approaching 
 step of his master. The yellow curs were still 
 insisting upon a marauder theory. One of 
 them barked defiance as he thrust his head 
 between the rails of the fence. There was 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 13 
 
 another head thrust through too, about on a 
 level with Towser s, but it was not a dog s 
 head. As Birt caught a glimpse of it, he 
 called out hastily, " Stand back thar, Ten 
 nessee ! " And then it was lost to view, for 
 at the sound of his voice all the dogs came 
 huddling over the bars, shrilly yelping a tu 
 multuous welcome. 
 
 When Birt had vaulted over the fence, the 
 little object withdrew its head from between 
 the rails and came trotting along beside him, 
 holding up its hand to clasp his. 
 
 His mother, standing in the passage, her 
 tall, thin figure distinct in the firelight that 
 came flickering out through the open door, so 
 liloquized querulously : 
 
 " Ef that thar child don t quit that fool 
 way o stickin her head a-twixt the rails ter 
 watch fur her brother, she 11 git cotched thar 
 some day like a peeg in a pen, an git her neck 
 bruk." " 
 
 Birt overheard her. " Tennessee air too 
 peart ter git herself hurt," he said, a trifle 
 ashamed of his ready championship of his lit- 
 
14 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 tie sister, as a big rough boy is apt to be of 
 gentler emotions. 
 
 If ever infancy can be deemed uncouth, she 
 was an uncouth little atom of humanity. Her 
 blue checked homespun dress, graced with big 
 horn buttons, descended almost to her feet. 
 Her straight, awkwardly cropped hair was of 
 a nondescript shade pleasantly called " tow." 
 As she came into the light of the fire, she 
 lifted wide black eyes deprecatingly to her 
 mother. 
 
 " She ain t pretty, I know, but she air pow 
 erful peart," Birt used to say so often that the 
 phrase became a formula with him. 
 
 If she were " powerful peart," it was a fact 
 readily apparent only to him, for she was a 
 silent child, with the single marked charac 
 teristic of great affection for her eldest brother 
 and a singular pertinacity in following him 
 about. 
 
 " I dunno bout Tennie s peartness," his 
 mother sarcastically rejoined. " Pears ter me 
 like the chile hain t never hed good sense ; 
 afore she could walk she d crawl along the 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 15 
 
 floor arter ye, an holler like a squeech-owe? ef 
 ye went off an lef her. An ye air plumb 
 teched in the head too, Birt, ter set sech store 
 by Tennie. I look ter see her killed, or 
 stunted, some day, in them travels o hern." 
 
 For when Birt Dicey went " yerrands " on 
 the mule through the woods to the Settlement, 
 Tennessee often rode on the pommel of his 
 saddle. She followed in the furrow when he 
 ploughed. She was as familiar an object at 
 the tanyard as the bark-mill itself. When he 
 wielded the axe, she perched on one end of the 
 woodpile. But so far, she had passed safely 
 through her varied adventures, and gratifying 
 evidences of her growth were registered on the 
 door. " Stand back thar, Tennessee ! " in a 
 loud, boyish halloo, was a command when dan 
 ger was ahead, which she obeyed with the read 
 iness of a veteran. 
 
 Sometimes, however, this incongruous com 
 panionship became irksome to him. Her trust 
 ing, insistent affection made her a clog upon 
 him, and he grew impatient of it. 
 
 Ah, little Sister ! he learned its value one 
 day. 
 
16 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 The great wood fire was all aflare in the 
 deep chimney-place. Savory odors came from 
 the gridiron and the skillet and the hoe, 011 
 the live coals drawn out on the broad hearth. 
 The tow-headed children grew noisy as they 
 assembled around the bare pine table, and 
 began to clash their knives and forks. 
 
 Birt, unmindful, crouched by the hearth, 
 silently turning his precious specimens about, 
 that he might examine them by the firelight. 
 Tennessee, her chuffy hand on his shoulder, 
 for she could reach it as he knelt, held her 
 head close to his, and looked at them too with 
 wide black eyes. His mother placed the sup 
 per on the table, and twice she called to him 
 to come, but he did not hear. She turned and 
 looked down at him, then broke out sharply in 
 indignant surprise. 
 
 " Air ye bereft o reason, Birt Dicey ! Ye 
 set thar nosin a handful o rocks ez ef they 
 war fitten ter eat ! An now look at the boy ! 
 a stuffin em in his pockets ter sag em 
 down and tear em out fur me ter sew in ag in. 
 Waal, waal! Sol mon say ef ye spare the 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 17 
 
 rod ye spile the child mos ennybody could 
 hev fund that out from thar own sperience ; 
 but the wisest man that ever lived lef no 
 receipt how ter keep a boy s pockets whole 
 
 in his breeches." 
 2 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 BIRT DICEY lay awake deep into the night, 
 pondering and planning. But despite this un 
 wonted vigil the old bark-mill was early astir, 
 and he went alertly about his work. He felt 
 eager, strong, capable. The spirit of progress 
 was upon him. 
 
 The tanyard lay in the midst of a forest so 
 dense that, except at the verge of the clearing, 
 it showed hardly a trace of its gradual despoli 
 ation by the industry that nestled in its heart 
 like a worm in the bud. There were many 
 stumps about the margin of the woods, the 
 felled trees, stripped of their bark, often lying 
 among them still, for the supply of timber ex 
 ceeded the need. In penetrating the wilder 
 ness you might mark, too, here and there, a 
 vacant space, where the chestnut-oak, prized 
 for its tannin, had once grown on the slope. 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 19 
 
 A little log house was in the midst of the 
 clearing. It had, properly speaking, only one 1 
 room, but there was a shed-room attached, for 
 the purpose of storage, and also a large open 
 shed at one side. The rail fence inclosed the 
 space of an acre, perhaps, which was covered 
 with spent bark. Across the pits planks were 
 laid, with heavy stones upon them to hold 
 them in place. A rude roof sheltered the 
 bark-mill from the weather, and there was the 
 patient mule, with Birt and a whip to make 
 sure that he did not fall into reflective pauses 
 according to his meditative wont. And there, 
 too, was Tennessee, perched on the lower 
 edge of a great pile of bark, and gravely 
 watching Birt. 
 
 He deprecated the attention she attracted. 
 He was sometimes ashamed to have the persis 
 tent little sister seen following at his heels like 
 a midday shadow. He could not know that 
 the men who stopped and spoke to him and to 
 her, and laughed at the infirmities of the in 
 fant tongue when she replied unintelligibly, 
 thought better of him for his manifestation of 
 
20 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 strong fraternal affection. They said to each 
 other that he was a " peart boy an powerful 
 good ter the t other chill en, an holped the 
 f ambly along ez well ez a man better n thar 
 dad ever done ; " for Birt s father had been 
 characterized always as " slack-twisted an on- 
 lucky." 
 
 The shadows dwindled on the tan. The 
 winds had furled their wings. White clouds 
 rose, dazzling, opaque, up to the blue zenith. 
 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. 
 Nate was glancing about with his usual air 
 of questioning disparagement, and cracking a 
 long lash at the spent bark on the ground. 
 
 " Hello, Nate ! " Birt cried out, eagerly. 
 " I m powerful glad ye happened ter kem 
 hyar, fur I hev a word ter say ter ye." 
 
DOWN THE RAWNE. 21 
 
 " I dunno ez I m minded ter bide," Nate 
 said cavalierly. " I hates to waste time an 
 burn daylight a-jowin ." 
 
 He was still cracking his lash at the ground. 
 There was a sudden, half-articulate remon 
 strance. 
 
 Birt, who had turned away to the bark-mill, 
 whirled back in a rising passion. 
 
 " Did ye hit Tennessee ? " he asked, with a 
 dangerous light in his eyes. 
 
 " No I never ! " Nate protested. " I hain t 
 seen her till this minute. She war standin 
 a-hint ye." 
 
 "Waal, ye skeered her, then," said Birt, 
 hardly appeased. "Quit snappin that lash. 
 Pears-like ter me ez ye makes yerself power 
 ful free round this hyar tanyard." 
 
 " Tennie air a-growin wonderful fast," the 
 sly Nathan remarked pleasantly. 
 
 Birt softened instantly. " She air a haffen 
 inch higher n she war las March, cordin ter 
 the mark on the door," he declared, pridefully. 
 " She ain t pretty, I know, but she air power 
 ful peart." 
 
22 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 " 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. But when the disclo 
 sure was imminent, something in those small, 
 bead-like eyes, unpleasantly close together, 
 something in the expression of the thin, pale 
 face, something in Nate s voice and manner 
 repelled confidence. 
 
 " Nate," said Birt, at last, speaking with 
 that subacute conviction, so strong yet so ill- 
 defined, which vividly warns the ill-judged and 
 yet cannot stop the tongue constrained by its 
 own folly, "what d ye s pose I fund in the 
 woods yestiddy ? " 
 
 The two small eyes, set close together, 
 seemed merged in one, so concentrated was 
 their gaze. Again their expression struck 
 Birt s attention. He hesitated once more. 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 23 
 
 " Ef I tell ye, will ye promise never ter tell 
 enny livin human critter ? " 
 
 " I hope I may drap stone dead ef I ever 
 tell ! " Nate exclaimed. 
 
 " I fund a strange metal in the woods yes- 
 tiddy. What d ye s pose t war ? " 
 
 Nate shook his head. His breath was quick 
 and he could not control the keen anxiety in 
 his face. A strong flush rose to the roots of 
 his sandy hair, his lips quivered, and his small 
 eyes glittered with greedy expectation. His 
 tongue refused to frame a word. 
 
 " Gold ! " cried Birt, triumphantly. 
 
 " Whar be it? " exclaimed Nate. He was 
 about to start in full run for the spot. 
 
 " I ain t agoin ter tell ye, without we-uns 
 kin strike a trade." 
 
 " Waal," said Nate, with difficulty repress 
 ing his impatience, " what air you-uns aimin 
 ter do?" 
 
 " Ye knows ez I hev ter bide hyar with the 
 bark-mill mos ly, jes now," said Birt, begin 
 ning to expound the series of ideas which he 
 had carefully worked out in his midnight vigil, 
 
24 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 " kase they hev got ter hev a heap o tan ter 
 fill them thar vats ag in. Ef I war ter leave 
 an go a-gold huntin , the men on the mount 
 ing would find out what I war arter, an they d 
 come a-grabblin thar too, an mebbe git it all, 
 kase I dunno how much or how leetle thar be. 
 I wants ter make sure of enough ter buy a 
 horse, or a mule, or su thin , ef I kin, fore I 
 tells ennybody else. An I lowed ez ye an 
 me would go pardners. Ye d take my place 
 hyar at the tanyard one day, whilst I dug, an 
 I d bide in the tanyard nex day. An we 
 would divide fair an even all we fund." 
 
 Nate did not reply. He was absorbed in 
 a project that had come into his head as his 
 friend talked, and the two dissimilar trains 
 of thought combined in a mental mosaic that 
 would have amazed Birt Dicey. 
 
 " Ye see," Birt presently continued, " I 
 dunno when I kin git shet o the tanyard this 
 year. Old Jube Perkins lows ez he air 
 mighty busy bout n them hides an sech, an 
 he wants me ter holp around ginerally. He 
 say ef I do mo work n I owes him, he 11 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 25 
 
 make that straight with my mother. An he 
 declares fur true ef I don t holp him at this 
 junctry, when he needs me, he won t hire his 
 mule to my mother nex spring ; an ye know 
 it won t do fur we-uns ter resk the corn-crap 
 an gyarden truck with sech a pack o chill n 
 ter vittle ez we-uns hev got at our house." 
 
 Nate deduced an unexpected conclusion. 
 " Ye oughter gin me more n. haffen the make," 
 he said. " Kase ef twarn t fur me, ye could 
 nt git none. An ef ye don t say two thurds, 
 I 11 tell every critter on the mounting an 
 they 11 be grabblin in yer gold mine d rec ly." 
 
 " Ye dunno whar it is," said Birt, quietly. 
 
 If a sudden jet from the cold mountain tor 
 rent, that rioted through the wilderness down 
 the ravine hard by, had been dashed into 
 Nate s thin, sharp face, he could not have cooled 
 more abruptly. The change almost took his 
 breath away. 
 
 "I don t mean ihat^ nuther," he gasped with 
 politic penitence, "kase I hev promised not 
 ter tell. I dunno whether I kin holp nohow. 
 I hev got ter do my sheer o work at home ; 
 
26 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 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 insubordi 
 nate 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. 
 
 "Mebbe old Jube would n t want me round 
 bout," he suggested. 
 
 " Waal," said Birt, eager again to detail 
 his plans, " he lowed when I axed him this 
 mornin ez he d be willin ef I could trade 
 with another boy ter take my place wunst in 
 a while." 
 
 Nate affected to meditate on this view of 
 the question. "But it will be toler ble fur 
 away fur me ter go prowlin in the woods, 
 a-huntin fur gold, an our fodder jes a-suf- 
 ferin ter be pulled. Ef the spot air fur off, 
 I can t come an I won t, not fur haffen the 
 make." 
 
 " T ain t fur off at all scant haffen mile," 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 27 
 
 replied unwary Birt, anxious to convince. "It 
 air jes yander nigh that thar salt lick down 
 the ravine. I marks the spot by a bowlder 
 biggest bowlder I ever see on the slope o 
 the mounting." 
 
 The instant this revelation passed his lips, 
 regret seized him. " But ye ain t ter go thar 
 thout me, ye onderstand, till we begins our 
 work." 
 
 " I ain t wantin ter go," Nate protested. " I 
 ain t sati fied in my mind whether I 11 onder- 
 take ter holp or no. That pullin fodder ez I 
 hev got ter do sets mighty heavy on my stom 
 ach." 
 
 " Tim an yer dad always pulls the fodder 
 an sech I knows ez that air a true word," 
 said Birt, bluntly. "An I can t git away 
 from the tanyard at all ef ye won t holp me, 
 kase old Jube lowed he wouldn t let me 
 swop with a smaller boy ter work hyar; an 
 all them my size, an bigger, air made ter 
 work with thar dads, ceptin you-uns." 
 
 Nate heard, but he hardly looked as if he 
 did, so busily absorbed was he in fitting this 
 
28 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 fragment of fact into his mental mosaic. It 
 had begun to assume the proportions of a dis^ 
 tinct design. 
 
 He suddenly asked a question of apparent 
 irrelevancy. 
 
 " This hyar land down the ravine don t 
 Vlong ter yer folkses who do it b long ter ? " 
 
 " Don t b long ter nobody, ye weasel ! " Birt 
 retorted, in rising wrath. "D ye s pose I d 
 be a-stealin of gold off n somebody else s 
 land?" 
 
 Nate s sly, thin face lighted up wonderfully. 
 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. He had only 
 a vague sense of mischief in the air, as slight 
 but as unmistakable as the harbinger of storm 
 on a sunshiny summer day. 
 
 "I wisht I hedn t tole him nuthin ," he 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 29 
 
 said, as he wended his way home that night. 
 " Ef my mother hed knowed bout n it all, I 
 would n t hev been lowed ter tell him. She 
 despises the very sight o this hyar Nate Griggs 
 an yit she say she dunno why." 
 
 After supper he sat gloomy and taciturn in 
 the uninclosed passage between the two rooms, 
 watching alternately the fire-flies, as they in- 
 starred the dark woods with ever-shifting gold 
 sparks, and the broad, pale flashes of heat 
 lightning which from time to time illumined 
 the horizon. There was no motion in the 
 heavy black foliage, but it was filled with the 
 shrill droning of the summer insects, and high 
 in the branches a screech-owl pierced the air 
 with its keen, quavering scream. 
 
 " Tennessee ! " exclaimed Birt, as the un 
 welcome sound fell upon his ear "Tennes 
 see ! run an 5 put the shovel in the fire ! " 
 
 Whether the shovel, becoming hot among 
 the live coals, burned the owl that was high in 
 the tree-top outside, according to the country 
 side superstition, or whether by a singular co 
 incidence, he discovered that he had business 
 
30 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 elsewhere, he was soon gone, and the night 
 was left to the chorusing katydids and tree- 
 toads and to the weird, fitful illuminations of 
 the noiseless heat lightning. 
 
 Birt Dicey rose suddenly and walked away 
 silently into the dense, dark woods. 
 
 " Stop, Tennessee ! ye can t go too ! " ex 
 claimed Mrs. Dicey, appearing in the doorway 
 just in time to intercept the juvenile excur 
 sionist. " Ketch her, Kufus ! Ef she would n t 
 hev followed Birt right off in the pitch dark ! 
 She ain t afeared o nothin when Birt is thar. 
 Git that pomegranate she hed an gin it ter 
 her ter keep her from holler in , Hufe ; I hed 
 a sight ruther hear the squeech-owe/." 
 
 Tennessee, overpowered by disappointment, 
 sobbed herself to sleep upon the floor, and 
 then ensued an interval of quiet. Rufe, a tow- 
 headed boy of ten, dressed in an unbleached 
 cotton shirt and blue-checked homespun trou 
 sers, concluded that this moment was the ac 
 cepted time to count the balls in his brother s 
 shot-pouch. This he proceeded to do, with 
 the aid of the sullen glare from the embers 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 31 
 
 within and the fluctuating gleams of the light 
 ning without. There was no pretense of util 
 ity in Rufe s performance ; only the love of 
 handling lead could explain it. 
 
 "Ye hed better mind," his mother admon 
 ished him. " Birt war powerful tried the 
 t other day ter think what hed gone with his 
 bullets. He 11 nose ye out afore long." 
 
 " They hev got sech a fool way o slippin 
 through the chinks in the floor," said the boy 
 in exasperation. " I never seen the beat ! An 
 thar s no gittin them out, nuther. I snaked 
 under the house yestiddy an sarched, an 
 sarched ! an I never fund but two. An 
 Towse, he dragged hisself under thar, too 
 jes a-growlin an a-snappin . I thought fur 
 sartin every minit he d bite my foot off." 
 
 He resumed his self-imposed task of count 
 ing the rifle balls, and now and then a sharp 
 click told that another was consigned to that 
 limbo guarded by Towse. Mrs. Dicey stood 
 in silence for a time, gazing upon the unuttera 
 bly gloomy forest, the distant, throbbing stars, 
 and the broad, wan flashes at long intervals 
 gleaming through the sky. 
 
32 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 " It puts me in a mighty tucker ter hev yer 
 brother a-settin out through the woods this 
 hyar way, an a-leavin of we-uns hyar, all 
 by ourselves sech a dark night. I m always 
 af eared thar inought be a bar a-prowlin 
 round. An the cornfield air close ter the 
 house, too." 
 
 " Pete Thompson him ez war yander ter 
 the tanyard day fore yestiddy with his dad," 
 said the boy, "he tole it ter me ez how he 
 seen a bar las Wednesday a-climbin over the 
 fence ter thar cornfield, with a haffen dozen 
 roastin -ears under his arm an a watermillion 
 on his head. But war it a haffen dozen ? I 
 furgits now ef Pete said it war a haffen dozen 
 or nine ears of corn the bar hed ; " and he 
 paused to reflect in the midst of his important 
 occupation. 
 
 " I 11 be bound Pete never stopped ter 
 count em," said Mrs. Dicey. " Pick that 
 chile up an come in. I m goin ter bar up 
 the door." 
 
 Birt Dicey plodded away through the deep 
 woods and the dense darkness down the ravine. 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 33 
 
 Although he could not now distinguish one 
 stone from another, he had an uncontrollable 
 impulse to visit again the treasure he had dis 
 covered. The murmur of the gently bubbling 
 water warned him of the proximity of the deep 
 salt spring almost at the base of the mountain, 
 and, guiding himself partly by the sound, he 
 made his way along the slope to the great 
 bowlder beneath the cliffs that served to mark 
 the spot. As he laid his hand on the bowlder, 
 he experienced a wonderful exhilaration of 
 spirit. Once more he canvassed his scheme. 
 This was the one great opportunity of his 
 restricted life. Visions of future possibilities 
 were opening wide their fascinating vistas. He 
 might make enough to buy a horse, and this 
 expressed his idea of wealth. " But ef I live 
 ter git a cent out n it," he said to himself, 
 " I 11 take the very fust money I kin call my 
 own an buy Tennessee a chany cup an sarcer, 
 an a string o blue beads an a caliky coat 
 ef I die fur it." 
 
 His pleased reverie was broken by a sudden 
 discovery. He was not standing among stones 
 
34 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 about the great bowlder ; no his foot had 
 sunk deep in the sand ! He stooped down in 
 the darkness and felt about him. The spot 
 was not now as he had left it yesterday after 
 noon. He was sure of this, even before a fleet, 
 wan flash of the heat lightning showed him at 
 his feet the unmistakable signs of a recent ex 
 cavation. It was not deep, it was not broad ; 
 but it was fresh and it betrayed a prying hand. 
 Again the heat lightning illumined the wide, 
 vague sky. He saw the solemn dark forests ; 
 he saw the steely glimmer of the lick; the 
 distant mountains flickered against the pallid 
 horizon ; and once more densest gloom. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 IT was Nate who had been here, Birt felt 
 sure of that ; Nate, who had promised he 
 would not come. 
 
 Convinced that his friend was playing a 
 false part, Birt went at once to the bark- mill 
 in the morning, confident that he would not 
 find Nate at work in the tanyard according to 
 their agreement. 
 
 It was later than usual, and Jubal Perkins 
 swore at Birt for his tardiness. He hardly 
 heard ; and as the old bark-mill ground and 
 ground the bark, and the mule jogged around 
 and around, and the hot sun shone, and the 
 voices of the men handling the hides at the 
 tanpit were loud on the air, all his thoughts 
 were of the cool, dark, sequestered ravine, 
 holding in its cloven heart the secret he had 
 discovered. 
 
36 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 Rufus happened to come to the tanyard to 
 day. Birt seized the opportunity. 
 
 " Rufe," he said, " ye see I can t git away 
 from the mill, kase I ni bleeged ter stay hyar 
 whilst the old mule grinds. But ef ye 11 go 
 over yander ter Nate Griggs s house an tell 
 him ter come over hyar, bein ez I want to see 
 him partic lar, I 11 fix ye a squir 1-trap before 
 long ez the peartest old Bushy-tail on the 
 mounting ain t got the gumption ter git out n. 
 An let me know ef Nate ain t thar." 
 
 Rufe was disposed to parley. He stood first 
 on one foot, then on the other. He cast calcu 
 lating eyes at the bark-mill and out upon the 
 deep forest. The exact date on which this 
 promise was to be fulfilled had to be fixed be 
 fore he announced his willingness to set out. 
 
 Ten to one, he would have gone without the 
 bribe, had none been suggested, for he loved 
 the woods better than the wood-pile, and a 
 five-mile tramp through its tangles wearied 
 his bones not so much as picking up a single 
 basketful of chips. Some boys bones are con 
 stituted thus, strange as it may seem. 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 37 
 
 So he went his way in his somewhat eccen 
 tric gait, compounded of a hop, and a skip, 
 and a dawdle. He had made about half a 
 mile when the path curved to the mountain s 
 brink. He paused and parted the glossy leaves 
 of the dense laurel that he might look out 
 over the precipice at the distant heights. How 
 blue how softly blue they were ! the end 
 less ranges about the horizon. What a golden 
 haze melted on those nearer at hand, bravely 
 green in the sunshine ! From among the beet 
 ling crags, the first red leaf was whirling away 
 against the azure sky. Even a buzzard had its 
 picturesque aspects, circling high above the 
 mountains in its strong, majestic flight. To 
 breathe the balsamic, sunlit air was luxury, 
 happiness ; it was a wonder that Rufe got on 
 as fast as he did. How fragrant and cool 
 and dark was the shadowy valley ! A silver 
 cloud lay deep in the waters of the " lick." 
 Why Rufe made up his mind to go down 
 there, he could hardly have said sheer cu 
 riosity, perhaps. He knew he had plenty of 
 time to get to Nate s house and back before 
 
38 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 dark. People who sent Rufe on errands usu 
 ally reckoned for two hours waste in each 
 direction. He had no idea of descending the 
 cliffs as Birt had done. He stolidly retraced 
 his way until he was nearly home; then 
 scrambling down rocky slopes he came pres 
 ently upon a deer-path. All at once, he no 
 ticed the footprint of a man in a dank, marshy 
 spot. He stopped and looked hard at it, for 
 he had naturally supposed this path was used 
 only by the woodland gentry. 
 
 " Some deer - hunter, I reckon," he said. 
 And so he went on. 
 
 With his characteristic curiosity, he peered 
 all around the " lick " when he was at last 
 there. He even applied his tongue, calf-like, 
 to the briny earth ; it did not taste so salty 
 as he had expected. As he rolled over luxu 
 riously on his back among the fragrant sum 
 mer weeds, he caught sight of something in 
 the branches of an oak tree. He sat up and 
 stared. It looked like a rude platform. After 
 a moment, he divined that it was the remnant 
 of a scaffold from which some early settler of 
 
DOWN THE RAWNE. 39 
 
 Tennessee had been wont to fire upon the deer 
 or the buffalo at the " lick," below. Such 
 relics, some of them a century old, are to be 
 seen to this day in sequestered nooks of the 
 Cumberland Mountains. Rufe had heard of 
 these old scaffolds, but he had never known of 
 the existence of this one down by the " lick." 
 He sprang up, a flush of excitement contend 
 ing with the dirt on his countenance ; he set 
 his squirrel teeth resolutely together ; he ap 
 plied his sturdy fingers and his nimble legs 
 to the bark of the tree, and up he went like 
 a cat. 
 
 He climbed to the lower branches easily 
 enough, but he caused much commotion and 
 swaying among them as he struggled through 
 the foliage. An owl, with great remonstrant 
 eyes, suddenly looked out of a hollow, higher 
 still, with an inarticulate mutter of mingled 
 reproach, and warning, and anxiety. Rufe 
 settled himself on the platform, his bare feet 
 dangling about jocosely. Then, beating his 
 hands on either thigh to mark the time he 
 sang in a loud, shrill soprano, prone now and 
 
40 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 * 
 then to be flat, and yet, impartially, prone now 
 
 and then to be sharp : 
 
 Thar war two sun-dogs in the red day-dawn, 
 
 An the wind war laid t war prime fur game. 
 I went ter the woods betimes that morn, 
 
 An tuk my flint-lock, " Nancy," by name ; 
 An thar I see, in the crotch of a tree, 
 A great big catamount grinnin at me. 
 A-kee ! he ! he ! An a-ho ! ho ! he ! 
 A pop-eyed catamount laffin at me ! 
 
 And, as Rufe sang, the anger and remon 
 strance in the owl s demeanor increased every 
 moment. For the owl was a vocalist, too ! 
 
 Bein made game of by a brute beastis, 
 War su thin I could in no ways allow. 
 
 I jes spoke up, for my dander hed riz, 
 " Cat take in the slack o yer jaw ! " 
 
 He bowed his back Nance sighted him gran , 
 
 Then the blamed old gal jes flashed in the pan ! 
 
 A-kee ! he ! he ! An a-ho ! ho ! he ! 
 
 With a outraged catamount rebukin of me ! 
 
 As Rufe finished this with a mighty cres 
 cendo, he was obliged to pause for breath. 
 He stared about, gaspily. The afternoon was 
 waning. The mountains close at hand were 
 a darker green. The distant ranges had as 
 sumed a rosy amethystine tint, like nothing 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 41 
 
 earthly like the mountains of a dream, per 
 haps. The buzzard had alighted in the top 
 of a tree not far down the slope, a tree long 
 ago lightning-scathed, but still rising, gaunt 
 and scarred, above all the forest, and stretch 
 ing dead stark arms to heaven. Somehow 
 Rufe did not like the looks of it. He was 
 aware of a revulsion of feeling, of the ebbing 
 away of his merry spirit before he saw more. 
 As he tried to sing : 
 
 I war the mightiest hunter that ever ye see 
 Till that thar catamount tuk arter me ! 
 
 his tongue clove suddenly to the roof of his 
 mouth. 
 
 He could see something under that tree 
 which no one else could see, not even from 
 the summit of the crags, for the tree was be 
 yond a projecting slope, and out of the range 
 of vision thence. 
 
 Rufe could not make out distinctly what the 
 object was, but it was evidently foreign to the 
 place. He possessed the universal human weak 
 ness of regarding everything with a personal 
 application. It now seemed strange to him 
 
42 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 that he should have come here at all ; stranger 
 still, that he should have mounted this queer 
 relic of days so long gone by," and thus discov 
 ered that peculiar object under the dead tree. 
 He began to think he had been led here for a 
 purpose. Now Rufe was not so good a boy as 
 to be on the continual lookout for rewards of 
 merit. On the contrary, the day of reckoning 
 meant with him the day of punishment. He 
 had heard recounted an unpleasant supersti 
 tion that when the red sunsets were flaming 
 round the western mountains, and the valleys 
 were dark and drear, and the abysses and 
 gorges gloomed full of witches and weird 
 spirits, Satan himself might be descried, walk 
 ing the crags, and spitting fire, and deporting 
 himself generally in such a manner as to cause 
 great apprehension to a small person who could 
 remember so many sins as Rufe could. His 
 sins ! they trooped up before his mental vision 
 now, and in a dense convocation crowded the 
 encompassing wilderness. 
 
 Rufe felt that he must not leave this matter 
 in uncertainty. He must know whether that 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 43 
 
 strange object under the tree could be intended 
 as a warning to him to cease in time his evil 
 ways tormenting Towse, pulling Tennessee s 
 hair, shirking the woodpile, and squandering 
 Birt s rifle balls. He even feared this might 
 be a notification that the hour of retribution 
 had already come ! 
 
 He scuttled off the platform, and began to 
 swing himself from bough to bough. He was. 
 nervous and less expert than when he had 
 climbed up the tree. He lost his grip once, 
 and crashed from one branch to another, 
 scratching himself handsomely in the opera 
 tion. The owl, emboldened by his retreat, 
 flew awkwardly down upon the scaffold, and 
 perched there, its head turned askew, and its 
 great, round eyes fixed solemnly upon him. 
 
 Suddenly a wild hoot of derision rent the 
 air ; the echoes answered, and all the ravine 
 was filled with the jeering clamor. 
 
 " The wust luck in the worl ! " plained 
 poor Rufe, as the ill-omened cry rose again 
 and again. " Tain t goin ter s prise me none 
 now, ef I gits my neck bruk along o this 
 
44 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 resky foolishness in this cur ous place whar 
 owels watch from the lookout ez dead men 
 hev lef ." 
 
 He came down unhurt, however. Then he 
 sidled about a great many times through " the 
 laurel," for he could not muster courage for a 
 direct approach to the strange object he had 
 descried. The owl still watched him, and 
 bobbed its head and hooted after him. When 
 he drew near the lightning -scathed tree, he 
 paused rooted to the spot, gazing in astonish 
 ment, his hat on the back of his tow head, his 
 eyes opened wide, one finger inserted in his 
 mouth in silent deprecation. 
 
 For there stood a man dressed in black, and 
 with a dark straw hat on his head. He had 
 gray whiskers, and gleaming spectacles of a 
 mildly surprised expression. He smiled kindly 
 when he saw Rufe. Incongruously enough, he 
 had a hammer in his hand. He was going 
 down the ravine, tapping the rocks with it. 
 And Rufe thought he looked for all the world 
 like some over-grown, demented woodpecker. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 As Rufe still stood staring, the old gentle 
 man held out his hand with a cordial gesture. 
 
 " Come here, my little man ! " he said in a 
 kind voice. 
 
 Rufe hesitated. Then he was seized by 
 sudden distrust. Who was this stranger ? and 
 why did he call, " Come here ! " 
 
 Perhaps the fears already uppermost in 
 Rufe s mind influenced his hasty conclusion. 
 He cast a horrified glance upon the old gentle 
 man in black, a garb of suspicious color to 
 the little mountaineer, who had never seen 
 men clad in aught but the brown jeans habit 
 ually worn by the hunters of the range. He 
 remembered, too, the words of an old song 
 that chronicled how alluring were the invita 
 tions of Satan, and with a frenzied cry he fled 
 frantically through the laurel. 
 
46 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 Away and away he dashed, up steep ascents, 
 down sharp declivities, falling twice or thrice 
 in his haste, but hurting his clothes more than 
 himself. 
 
 It was not long before he was in sight of 
 home, and Towse met him at the fence. The 
 feeling between these two was often the re 
 verse of cordial, and as Kufe climbed down 
 from rail to rail, his sullen " Lemme lone, 
 now ! " was answered by sundry snaps at his 
 heels and a low growl. Not that Towse would 
 really have harmed him fealty to the fam 
 ily forbade that ; but in defense of his ears 
 and tail he thought it best to keep fierce pos 
 sibilities in Rufe s contemplation. 
 
 Rufe sat down on the floor of the unin- 
 closed passage between the two rooms, his legs 
 dangling over the sparse sprouts of chickweed 
 and clumps of mullein that grew just beneath, 
 for there were no steps, and Towse bounded 
 up and sat upright close beside him. And as 
 he sought to lean on Towse, the dog sought to 
 lean on him. 
 
 They both looked out meditatively at the 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 47 
 
 dense and sombre wilderness, upon which this 
 little clearing and humble log- cabin were but 
 meagre suggestions of that strong, full-pulsed 
 humanity that has elsewhere subdued nature, 
 and achieved progress, and preempted perfec 
 tion. 
 
 Towse soon shut his eyes, and presently he 
 was nodding. Presumably he dreamed, for 
 once he roused himself to snap at a fly, when 
 there was no fly. Rufe, however, was wide 
 awake, and busily canvassing how to account 
 to Birt for the lack of a message from Nate 
 Griggs, for he would not confess how untrust 
 worthy he had proved himself. As he re 
 flected upon this perplexity, he leaned his 
 throbbing head on his hand, and his attitude 
 expressed a downcast spirit. 
 
 This chanced to strike his mother s atten 
 tion as she came to the door. She paused and 
 looked keenly at him. 
 
 " Them hoss apples ag in ! " she exclaimed, 
 with the voice of accusation. She had no idea 
 of youthful dejection disconnected with the 
 colic. 
 
48 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 Eufe was roused to defend himself. " Hain t 
 teched em, now ! " he cried, acrimoniously. 
 
 " Waal, sometimes ye air sorter loose-jointed 
 in yer jaw, an ain t partic lar what ye say," 
 rejoined his mother, politely. " I 11 waste a 
 leetle yerb-tea on ye, ennyhow." 
 
 She started back into the room, and Eufe 
 rose at once. This cruelty should not be prac 
 ticed upon him, whatever might betide him at 
 the tanyard. He set out at a brisk pace. He 
 had no mind to be long alone in the woods 
 since his strange adventure down the ravine, 
 or he might have hid in the underbrush, as he 
 had often done, until other matters usurped 
 his mother s medicinal intentions. 
 
 When Rufe reached the tanyard, Birt was 
 still at work. He turned and looked eagerly 
 at the juvenile ambassador. 
 
 "Did Nate gin ye a word fur me?" he 
 called sonorously, above the clamor of the 
 noisy bark-mill. 
 
 " He say he 11 be hyar ter-morrer by sun 
 up !" piped out Rufe, in a blatant treble. 
 
 A lie seemed less reprehensible when he 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 49 
 
 was obliged to labor so conscientiously to 
 make it heard. 
 
 And then compunction seized him. He sat 
 down by Tennessee on a pile of bark, and 
 took off his old wool hat to mop the cold per 
 spiration that had started on his head and 
 face. He felt sick, and sad, and extremely 
 wicked, a sorry contrast to Birt, who was so 
 honest and reliable and, as his mother always 
 said, " ez stiddy ez the mounting." Birt was 
 beginning to unharness the mule, for the day s 
 work was at an end. 
 
 The dusk had deepened to darkness. The 
 woods were full of gloom. A timorous star 
 palpitated in the sky. In the sudden stillness 
 when the bark-mill ceased its whir, the moun 
 tain torrent hard by lifted a mystic chant. 
 The drone of the katydid vibrated in the lau 
 rel, and the shrill- voiced cricket chirped. Two 
 of the men were in the shed examining: a 
 
 O 
 
 green hide by the light of a perforated tin 
 lantern, that seemed to spill the rays in glint 
 ing white rills. As they flickered across the 
 pile of bark where Rufe and Tennessee were 
 
50 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 sitting, he noticed how alert Birt looked, how 
 bright his eyes were. 
 
 For Birt s hopes were suddenly renewed. 
 He thought that some mischance had detained 
 Nate to-day, and that he would come to-mor 
 row to work at the bark-mill. 
 
 The boy s blood tingled at the prospect of 
 being free to seek for treasure down the ravine. 
 He began to feel that he had been too quick 
 to distrust his friend. Perhaps the stipulation 
 that Nate should not go to the ravine until 
 the work commenced was more than he ought 
 to have asked. And perhaps, too, the tres 
 passer was not Nate ! The traces of shallow 
 delving might have been left by another hand. 
 
 Birt paused reflectively in unharnessing the 
 mule. He stood with the gear in one hand, 
 serious and anxious, in view of the possibility 
 that this discovery was not his alone. 
 
 Then he strove to cast aside the thought. 
 He said to himself that he had been hasty in 
 concluding that the slight excavation argued 
 human presence in that lonely spot ; a rock 
 dislodged and rolling heavily down the gorge 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 51 
 
 might have thus scraped into the sand and 
 gravel; or perhaps some burrowing animal, 
 prospecting for winter quarters, had begun to 
 dig a hole under the bowlder. 
 
 He was perplexed, despite his plausible rea 
 soning, and he continued silent and preoccu 
 pied when he lifted Tennessee to his shoulder 
 and trudged off homeward, with Rufe at his 
 heels, and the small boy s conscience following 
 sturdily in the rear. 
 
 That sternly accusing conscience ! Euf e 
 was dismayed, when he sat with the other 
 laughing children about the table, to know 
 that his soul was not merry. Sometimes a 
 sombre shadow fell upon his face, and once 
 Birt asked him what was the matter. And 
 though he laughed more than ever, he felt 
 it was very hard to be gay without the subtle 
 essence of mirth. That lie ! it seemed to 
 grow; before supper was over it was as big 
 as the warping-bars, and when they all sat in 
 a semicircle in the open passage, Rufe felt that 
 his conscience was the most prominent mem 
 ber of the party. The young moon sank ; the 
 
52 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 night waxed darker still ; the woods murmured 
 mysteriously. And he was glad enough at last 
 to be sent to bed, where after so long a time 
 sleep found him. 
 
 The morrow came in a cloud. The light 
 lacked the sunshine. The listless air lacked 
 the wind. Still and sombre, the woods touched 
 the murky, motionless sky. All the universe 
 seemed to hold a sullen pause. Time was 
 afoot it always is but Birt might not 
 know how it sped ; no shadows on the spent 
 tan this dark day ! Over his shoulder he was 
 forever glancing, hoping that Nate would pres 
 ently appear from the woods. He saw only 
 the mists lurking in the laurel ; they had au 
 tumnal presage and a chill presence. He but 
 toned his coat about him, and the old mule 
 sneezed as he jogged round the bark-mill. 
 
 Jubal Perkins and a crony stood smoking 
 much of the time to-day in the door of the 
 house, looking idly out upon the brown stretch 
 of spent bark, and the gray, weather-beaten 
 sheds, and the dun sky, and the shadowy, mist- 
 veiled woods. The tanner was a tall, muscular 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 53 
 
 man, clad in brown jeans, and with boots of a 
 fair grade of leather drawn high over his trou 
 sers. As he often remarked, " The tanyard 
 owes me good foot-gear ef the rest o the 
 mounting hev ter go barefoot." The expres 
 sion of his face was somewhat masked by a 
 heavy grizzled beard, but from beneath the 
 wide brim of his hat his eyes peered out with 
 a jocose twinkle. His mouth seemed chiefly 
 useful as a receptacle for his pipe-stem, for he 
 spoke through his nose. His voice was stri 
 dent on the air, since he included in the con 
 versation a workman in the shed, who was 
 scraping with a two-handled knife a hide 
 spread on a wooden horse. This man, whose 
 name was Andrew Byers, glanced up now and 
 then, elevating a pair of shaggy eyebrows, and 
 settled the affairs of the nation with diligence 
 and despatch, little hindered by his labors or 
 the distance. 
 
 Birt took no heed of the loud drawling talk. 
 In moody silence he drove the mule around 
 and around the bark-mill. The patient old 
 animal, being in no danger of losing his way, 
 
54 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 closed his eyes drowsily as he trudged, making 
 the best of it. 
 
 " I 11 git ez mild-mannered an meek-hearted 
 ez this hyar old beastis, some day, ef things 
 keep on ez disapp intin ez they hev been 
 lately," thought Birt, miserably. " They do 
 say ez even he used ter be a turrible kicker." 
 
 Noon came and went, and still the mists 
 hung in the forest closely engirdling the little 
 clearing. The roofs glistened with moisture, 
 and the eaves dripped. A crow was cawing 
 somewhere. Birt had paused to let the mule 
 rest, and the raucous sound caused him to turn 
 his head. His heart gave a bound when he 
 saw that en the other side of the fence the un 
 derbrush was astir along the path which wound 
 through the woods to the tanyard. Somebody 
 was coming ; he hoped even yet that it might 
 be Nate. He eagerly watched the rustling 
 boughs. The crow had flown, but he heard as 
 he waited a faint " caw ! caw ! " in the misty 
 distance. Whoever the newcomer might be, 
 he certainly loitered. At last the leaves 
 parted, and revealed Ruf e. 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 55 
 
 Birt s first sensation was renewed disap 
 pointment. Then he was disposed to inves 
 tigate the mystery of Nate s non-appearance. 
 
 " Hello, Rufe ! " he called out, as soon as 
 the small boy was inside the lanyard, " be 
 you-uns sure ez Nate said he d come over by 
 sun-up ? " 
 
 Rufe halted and gazed about him, endeav 
 oring to conjure an expression of surprise into 
 his freckled face. He even opened his mouth 
 to exhibit astonishment exhibiting chiefly 
 that equivocal tongue, and a large assortment 
 of jagged squirrel teeth. 
 
 " Hain t Nate come yit ? " he ventured. 
 
 The tanner suddenly put into the conversa 
 tion. 
 
 " War it Nate Griggs ez ye war aimin ter 
 trade with ter take yer place wunst in a while 
 in the lanyard ? " 
 
 Birt assented. " An he lowed he d be 
 hyar ter-day by sun-up. Rufe brung that word 
 from him yestiddy." 
 
 Rufe s conscience had given him a recess, 
 during which he had consumed several horse- 
 
56 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 apples in considerable complacence and a total 
 disregard of "yerb tea." He had climbed 
 a tree, and sampled a green persimmon, and 
 he endured with fortitude the pucker in his 
 mouth, since it enabled him to make such 
 faces at Towse as caused the dog to snap and 
 growl in a frenzy of surprised indignation. 
 He had fashioned a corn-stalk fiddle that 
 instrument so dear to rural children ! and 
 he had been sawing away on it to his own sat 
 isfaction and Tennessee s unbounded admira 
 tion for the last half-hour. He had forgotten 
 that pursuing conscience till it seized upon 
 him again in the tanyard. 
 
 " Oh, Birt," he quavered out, suddenly, " I 
 hain t laid eyes on Nate." 
 
 Birt exclaimed indignantly, and Jubal Per 
 kins laughed. 
 
 " I seen sech a cur ous lookin man, down 
 in the ravine by the lick, ez it sot me all cat- 
 awampus ! " continued Rufe. 
 
 As he told of his defection, and the false 
 hood with which he had accounted for it, 
 Jubal Perkins came to a sudden decision. 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 57 
 
 " Git on that thar mule, Birt, an ride over 
 ter Nate s, an find out what ails him, ef so be 
 ye hanker ter know. I don t want nobody 
 workin in this hyar tanyard ez looks ez 
 mournful ez ye do like ez ef ye hed been 
 buried an dug up. But hurry back, kase 
 there ain t enough bark ground yit, an I hev 
 got other turns o work I want ye ter do be 
 sides fore dark." 
 
 " War that Satan ? " asked Eufe abruptly. 
 
 " Whar ? " exclaimed Birt, startled, and 
 glancing hastily over his shoulder. 
 
 " Down yander by the lick," plained Rufe. 
 
 " Naw ! " said Birt, scornfully, " an nuth- 
 in like Satan, I 11 be bound ! " 
 
 He was, however, uneasy to hear of any 
 man down the ravine in the neighborhood of 
 his hidden treasure, but he could not now 
 question Rufe, for Jube Perkins, with mock 
 severity, was taking the small boy to account. 
 
 Byers was looking on, the knife idle in his 
 hands, and his lips distended with a wide grin 
 in the anticipation of getting some fun out of 
 Rufe. 
 
58 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 " Look-a-hyar, bub," said Jubal Perkins, 
 with both hands in his pockets and glaring 
 down solemnly at Rufe ; " ef ever I ketches 
 ye goin of yerrands no better n that ag in, 
 I m a-goin ter tan that thar hide o* 
 yourn." 
 
 Rufe gazed up deprecatingly, his eyes wide 
 ning at the prospect. Byers broke into a 
 horse laugh. 
 
 " We ve been wantin some leetle varmints 
 fur tanning ennyhow," he said. " Ye 11 feel 
 mighty queer when ye stand out thar on the 
 spent tan, with jes yer meat on yer bones, 
 an look up an see yer skin a-hangin along 
 side o the t other calves, an sech that ye 
 will!" 
 
 " An all the mounting folks will be remark- 
 in on it, too," said Perkins. Which no doubt 
 they would have done with a lively interest. 
 
 " I reckon," said Byers, looking specula- 
 tively at Rufe, " ez t would take a right smart 
 time fur ye ter git tough enough ter go bout 
 in respect ble society ag in. T would hurt ye 
 mightily, I m thinkin . Ef I war you-uns, 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 59 
 
 I d be powerful partic lar ter keep inside o 
 sech an accommodatin -lookin little hide ez 
 yourn be fur tanning." 
 
 Rufe s countenance was distorted. He 
 seemed about to tune up and whimper. " An 
 ef I war you-uns, Andy Byers, I d find su - 
 thin better ter do n ter bait an badger a crit 
 ter the size o Eufe ! " exclaimed Birt angrily. 
 
 " That thar boy s bout right, too ! " said 
 the man who had hitherto been standing silent 
 in the door. 
 
 " Waal, leave Rufe be, Jubal ! " said Byers, 
 laughing. " Ye started the fun." 
 
 " Leave him be, yerself," retorted the tanner. 
 
 When Birt mounted the mule, and rode out 
 of the yard, he glanced back and saw that 
 Eufe had approached the shed; judging by 
 his gestures, he was asking a variety of ques 
 tions touching the art of tanning, to which 
 Byers amicably responded. 
 
 The mists were shifting as Birt went on and 
 on. He heard the acorns dropping from the 
 chestnut-oaks sign that the wind was awake 
 in the woods. Like a glittering, polished 
 
60 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 blade, at last a slanting sunbeam fell. It split 
 the gloorn, and a radiant afternoon seemed to 
 emerge. The moist leaves shone ; far down 
 the aisles of the woods the fugitive mists, in 
 elusive dryadic suggestions, chased each other 
 into the distance. Although the song-birds 
 were all silent, there was a chirping somewhere 
 cheerful sound! He had almost reached 
 his destination when a sudden rustling in the 
 undergrowth by the roadside caused him to 
 turn and glance back. 
 
 Two or three shoats lifted their heads and 
 were gazing at him with surprise, and a cer 
 tain disfavor, as if they did not quite like his 
 looks. A bevy of barefooted, tow-headed chil 
 dren were making mud pies in a marshy dip 
 close by. An ancient hound, that had re 
 nounced the chase and assumed in his old age 
 the office of tutor, seemed to preside with dig 
 nity and judgment. He, too, had descried the 
 approach of the stranger. He growled, but 
 made no other demonstration. 
 
 " Whar s Nate ? " Birt called out, for these 
 were the children of Nate s eldest brother. 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 61 
 
 For a moment there was no reply. Then 
 the smallest of the small boys shrilly piped 
 out, " He hev gone away ! him an gran - 
 dad s claybank mare." 
 
 Another unexpected development ! " When 
 will he come back ? " 
 
 " Ain t goin ter come back fur two weeks." 
 
 " Whar bouts hev he gone ? " asked Birt 
 amazed. 
 
 " Dunno," responded the same little fellow. 
 
 "When did he set out?" 
 
 There was a meditative pause. Then en 
 sued a jumbled bickering. The small boys, 
 the shoats, and the hound seemed to consult 
 together in the endeavor to distinguish " day 
 fore yestiddy" from "las week." The 
 united intellect of the party was inadequate. 
 
 " Dunno ! " the mite of a spokesman at last 
 admitted. 
 
 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. The log 
 
62 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 house with its chimney of clay and sticks, the 
 barn of ruder guise, the fodder-stack, the ash- 
 hopper, and the rail fence were all imposed in 
 high relief against the crimson west and the 
 purpling ranges in the distance. The little 
 cabin was quite alone in the world. No other 
 house, no field, no clearing, was visible in all 
 the vast expanse of mountains and valleys 
 which it overlooked. The great panorama of 
 nature seemed to be unrolled for it only. The 
 seasons passed in review before it. The moon 
 rose, waxing or waning, as if for its behoof. 
 The sun conserved for it a splendid state. 
 
 But the skies above it had sterner moods, 
 sometimes lightnings veined the familiar 
 clouds; winds rioted about it; the thunder 
 spoke close at hand. And then it was that 
 Mrs. Griggs lamented her husband s course in 
 " raisin the house hyar so nigh the bluffs ez 
 ef it war an aigle s nest," and forgot that she 
 had ever accounted herself " sifflicated " when 
 distant from the airy cliffs. 
 
 She stood in the doorway now, her arms 
 akimbo an attitude that makes a woman of 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 63 
 
 a certain stamp seem more masterful than a 
 man. Her grizzled locks were ornamented by 
 a cotton cap with a wide and impressive ruffle, 
 which, swaying and nodding, served to empha 
 size her remarks. She was conferring in a 
 loud drawl with her husband, who had let 
 down the bars to admit his horse, laden with 
 a newly killed deer. Pier manner would seem 
 to imply that she, and not he, had slain the 
 animal. 
 
 " Toler ble fat," she commented with grave 
 self-complacence. " He minds me sorter o 
 that thar tremenjious buck we hed las Sep 
 tember. He war the fattes buck I ever see. 
 Take off his hide right straight." 
 
 The big cap-ruffle flapped didactically. 
 
 " Lor -a - massy, woman ! " vociferated the 
 testy old man ; " ain t I a-goin ter ? Ter hear 
 ye a-jowin , a-body would think I had never 
 shot nothin likelier n a yaller-haminer sence 
 I been born. S pos n ye jes takes ter goin 
 a-huntin , an skinnin deer, an cuttin wood, 
 an doin my work generally. Pears-like ye 
 think ye knows mo bout n my work n I does. 
 An I ll bide hyar at the house." 
 
64 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 Mrs. Griggs nodded her head capably, in 
 nowise dismayed. " I dunno but that plan 
 would work mighty well," she said. 
 
 This conjugal colloquy terminated as she 
 glanced up and saw Birt. 
 
 " Why, thar s young Dicey a - hint ye. 
 Howdy Birt ! Light an hitch ! " 
 
 "Naw m," rejoined Birt, as he rode into 
 the enclosure and close up to the doorstep. 
 "I hain t got time ter light." Then pre 
 cipitately opening the subject of his mission. 
 " I kem over hyar ter see Nate. Whar hev 
 he disappeared ter ? " 
 
 " Waal, now, that s jes what I d like ter 
 know," she replied, her face eloquent with 
 baffled curiosity. " He jes borried his dad s 
 claybank mare, an sot out, an never lowed 
 whar he war bound fur. Nate hev turned 
 twenty-one year old," she continued, " an he 
 lows he air a man growed, an obligated ter 
 obey nobody but hisseif. From the headin 
 way that he kerries on hyar, a-body would 
 s pose he air older 11 the Cumberland Mount 
 ings ! But he hev turned twenty- one that s 
 a fac an he voted at the las election." 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 65 
 
 (With how much discretion it need not now 
 be inquired.) 
 
 " I knows that air true," said Birt, who had 
 wistfully admired this feat of his senior. 
 
 " Waal Nate don t set much store by 
 votin ," rejoined Mrs. Griggs. "Nate, he say, 
 the greatest privilege his kentry kin confer on 
 him is ter make it capital punishment fur wim- 
 men ter ax him questions ! Which I hev 
 done," she admitted stoutly. 
 
 And the ruffle on her cap did not deny it. 
 
 " Nate air twenty-one," she reiterated. " An 
 I s pose he lows ez I hev no call nowadays 
 ter be his mother." 
 
 " Hain t ye got no guess whar he be gone ? " 
 asked Birt, dismayed by this strange new com 
 plication. 
 
 " Waal, I hev been studyin it out ez Nate 
 mought hev rid ter Parch Corn, whar his 
 great - uncle, Joshua Peters, lives him that 
 merried my aunt, Melissy Baker, ez war a wid- 
 der then, though born a Scruggs. An then, 
 ag in, Nate mought hev tuk it inter his head 
 ter go ter the Cross-roads, a-courtin a gal 
 5 
 
66 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 thar ez he hev been talkin about powerful, 
 lately. But they tells me," Mrs. Griggs ex 
 postulated, as it were, " that them gals at the 
 Cross-roads is in 110 way desirable, specially 
 this hyar Elviry Mills, ez mighty nigh all the 
 boys on the mounting hev los thar wits about, 
 what little wits ez they ever hed ter lose, 
 I mean ter say. But Nate thinks he hev got 
 a right ter a ch ice, bein ez he air turned 
 twenty-one." 
 
 " Did he say when he lowed ter come back ? " 
 Birt asked. 
 
 " Bout two or three weeks Nate laid off ter 
 be away ; but whar he hev gone, an what s 
 his yerrand, he let no human know," returned 
 Mrs. Griggs. " I hev been powerful agger- 
 vated bout this caper o Nate s. I ain t afeard 
 he 11 git hisself hurt no ways whilst he be 
 gone, for Nate is mighty apt ter take keer 
 o Nate." She nodded her head convincingly, 
 and the great ruffle on her cap shook in cor- 
 roboration. " But I hain t never hed the right 
 medjure o respec out n Nate, an his dad 
 hain t, nuther." 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 67 
 
 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. 
 
 And the big red ball of the setting sun 
 seemed at last to roll off the plane of the ho 
 rizon, and it disappeared amidst the fiery em 
 blazonment of clouds with which it had en 
 riched the west. But all the world was not so 
 splendid ; midway below the dark purple sum 
 mits a dun, opaque vapor asserted itself in 
 dreary, aerial suspension. Beneath it he could 
 see a file of cows, homeward bound, along the 
 road that encircled the mountain s base. He 
 heard them low, and this reminded him that 
 night was near, for all that the zenith was 
 azure, and for all that the west was aglow. 
 And he remembered he had a good many odd 
 jobs to do before dark. And so he turned 
 his face homeward. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 BIRT had always been held in high esteem 
 by the men at the tanyard. Suddenly, how 
 ever, the feeling toward him cooled. He re 
 membered afterward, although at the time he 
 was too absorbed to fully appreciate it, that 
 this change began one day shortly after he 
 had learned of Nate s departure. As he went 
 mechanically about his work, he was pondering 
 futilely upon his friend s mysterious journey, 
 and his tantalizing hopes lying untried in the 
 depths of the ravine. He hardly noticed the 
 conversation of the men until something was 
 said that touched upon the wish nearest his 
 heart. 
 
 " I war studyin bout lettin Birt hev a day 
 off," said the tanner. " An ye 11 bide hyar." 
 
 " Naw, Jube naw ! " Andy Byers replied 
 with stalwart independence to his employer. 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 69 
 
 " I hev laid off ter attend. Ef ye want enny- 
 body ter bide with the tanyard, an keer fur 
 this hyar pit, ye kin do it yerse f, or else Birt 
 kin. / hev laid off ter attend." 
 
 Andy Byers was a man of moods. His 
 shaggy eyebrows to-day overshadowed eyes 
 sombre and austere. He seemed, if possible, 
 a little slower than was his wont. He bore 
 himself with a sour solemnity, and he was at 
 once irritable and dejected. 
 
 " Shucks, Andy ! ye knows ye ain t no kin 
 sca cely ter the old woman ; ye could n t count 
 out how ye air kin ter her ter save yer life. 
 Now, / m obleeged ter attend." 
 
 It so happened that the tanner s great-aunt 
 was distantly related to Andy Byers. Being 
 ill, and an extremely old woman, she was sup 
 posed to be lying at the point of death, and 
 her kindred had been summoned to hear her 
 last words. 
 
 " I hed lowed ter gin Birt a day off, kase 
 I hev got ter hev the mule in the wagon, an 
 he can t grind bark. I promised Birt a day 
 off," the tanner continued. 
 
70 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 " That thar s twixt ye an Birt. I hain t 
 got no call ter meddle," said the obdurate 
 Byers. "Ye kin bide with the tanyard an 
 finish this job yerse f, ef so minded, / m 
 goin ter attend." 
 
 " I reckon half the kentry-side will be thar, 
 an /wants ter see the folks," said Jubal Per 
 kins, cheerfully. 
 
 " Then Birt will hev ter bide with the tan- 
 yard, an finish this job. It don t lie with me 
 ter gin him a day off. I don t keer ef he 
 never gits a day off," said Byers. 
 
 This was an unnecessarily unkind speech, 
 and Birt s anger flamed out. 
 
 " Ef we-uns war of a size, Andy Byers," he 
 said, hotly, " I d make ye divide work a leetle 
 more ekal than ye does." 
 
 Andy Byers dropped the hide in his hands, 
 and looked steadily across the pit at Birt, as 
 if he were taking the boy s measure. 
 
 "Ye mean ter say ef ye hed the bone an 
 muscle ye d knock me down, do ye ? " he 
 sneered. "Waal, I ll take the will fur the 
 deed. I ll hold the grudge agin ye, jes the 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 71 
 
 They were all three busied about the pit. 
 The hides had been taken out, and stratified 
 anew, with layers of fresh tan, reversing the 
 original order, those that had been at the bot 
 tom now being placed at the top. The opera 
 tion was almost complete before Jubal Perkins 
 received the news of his relative s precarious 
 condition. He had no doubt that Birt was 
 able to finish it properly, and the boy s consci 
 entious habit of doing his best served to make 
 the tanner s mind quite easy. As to the day 
 off, he was glad to have that question settled 
 by a quarrel between his employees, thus re 
 lieving him of responsibility. 
 
 Birt s wrath was always evanescent, and he 
 was sorry a moment afterward for what he 
 had said. Andy Byers exchanged no more 
 words with him, and skillfully combined a curt 
 and crusty manner toward him with an aspect 
 of contemplative dreariness. Occasionally, as 
 they paused to rest, Byers would sigh deeply. 
 
 "A mighty good old woman, Mrs. Price 
 war." He spoke as if she were already dead. 
 "A mighty good old woman, though small- 
 sized." 
 
72 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 " A little of her went a long way. She war 
 eighty-four year old, an kep a sharp tongue 
 in her head ter the las ," rejoined the tanner, 
 adopting in turn the past tense. 
 
 Rufe listened with startled interest. Now 
 and then he cocked up his speculative eyes, 
 and gazed fixedly into the preternaturally sol 
 emn face of Byers, who reiterated, " A good 
 old woman, though small-sized." 
 
 With this unaccustomed absorption Rufe s 
 accomplishment of getting under-foot became 
 pronounced. The tanner jostled him more 
 than once, Birt stumbled against his toes, and 
 Byers, suddenly turning, ran quite over him. 
 Rufe had not far to fall, but Byers was a tall 
 man. His arms swayed like the sails of a 
 windmill in the effort to recover his balance. 
 He was in danger of toppling into the pit, and 
 in fact only caught himself on his knees at its 
 verge. 
 
 " Ye torment ! " he roared angrily, as he 
 struggled to his feet. " G way from hyar, or 
 I 11 skeer ye out n yer wits ! " 
 
 The small boy ruefully gathered his mem- 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 73 
 
 bers together, and after the men had started 
 on their journey he sat down on a pile of wood 
 hard by to give Birt his opinion of Andy 
 Byers. 
 
 " He air a toler ble mean man, ain t he, 
 Birt?" 
 
 But Birt said he had no mind to talk about 
 Andy Byers. 
 
 " Sheer me!" exclaimed Rufe, doughtily. 
 " It takes a heap ter skeer Me ! " 
 
 He got up presently, and going into the 
 shed began to examine the tools of the trade 
 which were lying there. He had the two-han 
 dled knife, with which he was about to try his 
 skill on a hide that was stretched over the 
 beam of the wooden horse, when Birt glanced 
 up and came hastily to the rescue. Rufe was 
 disposed to further investigate the appliances 
 of the tanyard left defenseless at his mercy, 
 but at last Birt prevailed on him to go home 
 and play with Tennessee, and was glad enough 
 to see his tow-head, with his old hat perched 
 precariously on it, bobbing up and down 
 among the low bushes, as he wended his way 
 along the path through the woods. 
 
74 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 The hides had all been replaced between 
 layers of fresh tan before the men left, and 
 Birt had only to fill up the space above with a 
 thicker layer, ten or fifteen inches deep, and 
 put the boards securely across the top of the 
 pit, with heavy stones upon them to weight 
 them down. But this kept him busy all the 
 rest of the afternoon. 
 
 Rufe was pretty busy too. When he came 
 in sight of home Tennessee was the first object 
 visible in the open passage. The sunshine 
 slanted through it under the dusky roof, and 
 the shadows of the chestnut-oak, hard by, dap 
 pled the floor. Lying there was an old Mexi 
 can saddle, for which there was no use since 
 the horse had died. Tennessee was mounted 
 upon it, the reins in her hands, the headstall 
 and bit poised on the peaked pommel. She 
 jounced back and forth, and the skirts of the 
 saddle flapped and the stirrups clanked on the 
 floor, and the absorbed eyes of the little moun 
 taineer were fixed on space. 
 
 Away and away she cantered on some splen 
 did imaginary palfrey, through scenes where 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 75 
 
 conjecture fails to follow her : a land, doubt 
 less, where all the winds blow fair, and spark 
 ling waters run, and jeopardy delights, and 
 fancy s license prevails all very different, 
 you may be sure, from the facts, an old saddle 
 on a puncheon floor, and a little black-eyed 
 mountaineer. 
 
 How far Tennessee journeyed, and how long 
 she was gone, it is impossible to say. She 
 halted suddenly when her attention was at 
 tracted to a phenomenon within one of the 
 rooms. 
 
 The door was ajar and the solitary Eufe was 
 visible in the dusky vista. He stood before a 
 large wooden chest. He had lifted the lid, 
 and kept it up by resting it upon his head, 
 bent forward for the purpose, while he rum 
 maged the contents with vandal hands. 
 
 Tennessee stared at him, with indignant sur 
 prise gathering in her widening eyes. 
 
 Now that chest contained, besides a meagre 
 store of quilts and comforts, her own and her 
 mother s clothes, the fewer garments of the 
 boys of the family being alternately suspended 
 
76 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 on the clothes-line and their own frames. She 
 resented the sacrilege of Kufe s invasion of 
 that chest. She turned on the saddle and 
 looked around with an air of appeal. Her 
 mother, however, was down the hill beside the 
 spring, busy boiling soap, and quite out of 
 hearing. Tennessee gazed vaguely for a mo 
 ment at the great kettle with the red and yel 
 low flames curling around it, and her mother s 
 figure hovering over it. Then she looked back 
 at Eufe. 
 
 He continued industriously churning up the 
 contents of the chest, the lid still poised upon 
 that head that served so many other useful 
 purposes for the gymnastic exhibition in 
 volved in standing on it ; for his extraordinary 
 mental processes ; for a lodgment for his old 
 wool hat, and a field for his crop of flaxen 
 hair. 
 
 All the instinct of the proprietor was roused 
 within Tennessee. She found her voice, a 
 hoarse, infantile wheeze. 
 
 " Turn out n chist ! " she exclaimed, guttur- 
 ally. " Turn out n chist I " 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 77 
 
 Rufe turned his tow-head slowly, that he 
 might not disturb the poise of the lid of the 
 chest resting upon it. He fixed a solemn stare 
 on Tennessee, and drawing one hand from the 
 depths of the chest, he silently shook his fist. 
 And then he resumed his researches. 
 
 Tennessee, alarmed by this impressive dem 
 onstration, dismounted hastily from the saddle 
 as soon as his threatening gaze was withdrawn. 
 She tangled her feet in the stirrups and her 
 hands in the reins, and lost more time in 
 scrambling off the floor of the passage and 
 down upon the ground; but at last she was 
 fairly on her way to the spring to convey an 
 account to her mother of the outlaw in the 
 chest. In fact, she was not far from the scene 
 of the soap-boiling when she heard her name 
 shouted in stentorian tones, and pausing to 
 look back, she saw Rufe gleefully capering 
 about in the passage, the headstall on his own 
 head, the bit hanging on his breast, and the 
 reins dangling at his heels. 
 
 Now this beguilement the little girl could 
 never withstand, and indeed few people ever 
 
78 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 had the opportunity to drive so frisky and 
 high-spirited a horse as Ruf e was when he con 
 sented to assume the bit and bridle. He was 
 rarely so accommodating, as he preferred the 
 role of driver, with what he called "a pop- 
 lashee/" at command. She forgot her tell 
 tale mission. She turned with a gurgle of 
 delight and began to toddle up the hill again. 
 And presently Mrs. Dicey, glancing toward 
 the house, saw them playing together in great 
 amity, and rejoiced that they gave her so lit 
 tle trouble. 
 
 They were still at it when Birt came home, 
 but then Tennessee was tired of driving, and 
 he let her go with him to the wood-pile and sit 
 on a log while he swung the axe. No one 
 took special notice of Rufe s movements in the 
 interval before supper. He disappeared for a 
 time, but when the circle gathered around the 
 table he was in his place and by no means a 
 non-combatant in the general onslaught on the 
 corn-dodgers. Afterward he came out in the 
 passage and sat quietly among the others. 
 
 The freshened air was fragrant, and how 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 79 
 
 the crickets were chirring in the grass ! On 
 every spear the dew was a-glimmer, for a lus 
 trous moon shone from the sky. Somehow, 
 despite the long roads of light that this splen 
 did pioneer blazed out in the wilderness, it 
 seemed only to reveal the loneliness of the 
 forests, and to give new meaning to the solem 
 nity of the shadows. The heart was astir with 
 some responsive thrill that jarred vaguely, and 
 was pain. Yet the night had its melancholy 
 fascination, and they were all awake later than 
 usual. When at last the doors were barred, 
 and the house grew still, and even the vigilant 
 Towse had ceased to bay and had lodged him 
 self under the floor of the passage, the moon 
 still shone in isolated effulgence, for the faint 
 stars faded before it. 
 
 The knowledge that in all the vast stretch 
 of mountain fastnesses he was the only human 
 creature that beheld it, as it majestically 
 crossed the meridian, gave Andy Byers a for 
 lorn feeling, while tramping along homeward. 
 He had made the journey afoot, some eight 
 miles down the valley, and was later far in re- 
 
80 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 turning than others who had heeded the sum 
 mons of the sick woman. For she still lay 
 in the same critical condition, and his mind 
 was full of dismal forebodings as he toiled 
 along the road on the mountain s brow. The 
 dark woods were veined with shimmering sil 
 ver. The mists, hovering here and there, 
 showed now a blue and now an amber gleam 
 as the moon s rays conjured them. On one 
 side of the road an oak tree had been uptorn 
 in a wind-storm ; the roots, carrying a great 
 mass of earth with them, were thrust high in 
 the air, while the bole and leafless branches 
 lay prone along the ground. This served as a 
 break in the density of the forest, and the 
 white moonshine possessed the vacant space. 
 
 As he glanced in that direction his heart 
 gave a great bound, then seemed suddenly to 
 stand still. There, close to the verge of the 
 road, as if she had stepped aside to let him 
 pass, was the figure of an old woman a small- 
 sized woman, tremulous and bent. It looked 
 like old Mrs. Price ! As he paused amazed, 
 with starting eyes and failing limbs, the wind 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 81 
 
 flattered her shawl and her ample sunbonnet. 
 This shielded her face and he could not see 
 her features. Her head seemed to turn to 
 ward him. The next instant it nodded at him 
 familiarly. 
 
 To the superstitious mountaineer this sug 
 gested that the old woman had died since he 
 had left her house, and here was her ghost 
 already vagrant in the woods ! 
 
 The foolish fellow did not wait to put this 
 fancy to the test. With a piercing cry he 
 sprang past, and fled like a frightened deer 
 through the wilderness homeward. 
 
 In his own house he hardly felt more se 
 cure. He could not rest he could not sleep. 
 He stirred the embers with a trembling hand, 
 and sat shivering over them. His wife, will 
 ing enough to believe in " harnts " : as appear 
 ing to other people, was disposed to repudiate 
 them when they presumed to offer their dubi 
 ous association to members of her own family 
 circle. 
 
 " Dell-law ! " she exclaimed scornfully. " I 
 
 i Ghosts. 
 
82 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 say harnt ! Old Mrs. Price, though spry ter 
 the las , war so proud o her age an her ail 
 ments that she would n t hev nobody see her 
 walk a step, or stand on her feet, fur nuth 
 in . Her darter-in-law tole me ez the only 
 way ter find out how nimble she really be 
 war ter box one o her gran chill n, an then 
 she d bounce out n her cheer, an jounce 
 round the room after thar daddy or mammy, 
 whichever hed boxed the chill n. That fur- 
 saken couple always hed ter drag thar chill n 
 out in the woods, out n earshot of the house, 
 ter whip em, an then threat em ef they 
 dare let thar granny know they hed been 
 struck. But elsewise she hed ter be lifted 
 from her bed ter her cheer by the h a th. She 
 would n t hev her sperit seen a-walkin way up 
 hyar a-top o the mounting, like enny healthy 
 harnt, fur nuthin in this worl . Whatever 
 t war, t warn t her. An I reckon ef the truth 
 war knowed, t warn t nuthin at all f org, 
 mebbe." 
 
 This stalwart reasoning served to steady his 
 nerves a little. And when the moon went 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 83 
 
 down and the day was slowly breaking, he took 
 his way, with a vacillating intention and many 
 a chilling doubt, along the winding road to 
 the scene of his fright. 
 
 It was not yet time by a good hour or more 
 to go to work, and nothing was stirring. A 
 wan light was on the landscape when he came 
 in sight of the great tree prone upon the 
 ground. And there, close to the edge of the 
 road, as if she had stepped aside to let him 
 pass, was the figure of a little, bent old woman 
 nay, in the brightening dawn, a bush a 
 blackberry bush, clad in a blue-checked apron, 
 a red plaid shawl, and with a neat sunbonnet 
 nodding on its topmost spray. 
 
 His first emotion was intense relief. Then 
 he stood staring at the bush in rising indigna 
 tion. This sandy by-way of a road led only 
 to his own house, and this image of a small 
 and bent old woman had doubtless been de 
 vised, to terrify him, by some one who knew 
 of his mission, and that he could not return 
 except by this route. 
 
 Only for a moment did he feel uncertain 
 
84 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 as to the ghost-maker s identity. There was 
 something singularly familiar to him in the 
 plaid of the shawl even in the appearance 
 of the bonnet, although it was now limp and 
 damp. He saw it at " nieet n " whenever the 
 circuit rider preached, and he presently recog 
 nized it. This was Mrs. Dicey s bonnet ! 
 
 His face hardened. He set his teeth to 
 gether. An angry flush flared to the roots of 
 his hair. 
 
 Not that he suspected the widow of having 
 set this trap to frighten him. He was not 
 learned, nor versed in feminine idiosyncrasies, 
 but it does not require much wisdom to know 
 that on no account whatever does a woman s 
 best bonnet stay out all night in the dew, in 
 tentionally. The presence of her bonnet 
 proved the widow s alibi. 
 
 Like a flash he remembered Birt s anger 
 the previous day. " Told me he d make me 
 divide work mo ekal, an ez good ez said he d 
 knock me down ef he could. An I told him 
 I d hold the grudge agin him jes the same 
 an I will!" 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 85 
 
 He felt sure that it was Birt who had thus 
 taken revenge, because he was kept at work 
 while his fellow-laborer was free to go. 
 
 Byers thought the boy would presently come 
 to take the garments home, and conceal his 
 share in the matter, before any one else would 
 be likely to stir abroad. 
 
 " An I 11 hide close by with a good big 
 hickory stick, an I 11 gin him a larrupin ez 
 he won t furgit in a month o Sundays," he 
 resolved, angrily. 
 
 He opened his clasp-knife, and walked slow 
 ly into the woods, looking about for a choice 
 hickory sprout. He did not at once find one 
 of a size that he considered appropriate to the 
 magnitude of Birt s wickedness, and he went 
 further perhaps than he realized, and stayed 
 longer. 
 
 He had a smile of stern satisfaction on his 
 face when he was lopping off the leaves and 
 twigs of a specimen admirably adapted for 
 vengeance. He was stealthy in returning, 
 keeping behind the trees, and slipping softly 
 from bole to bole. At last, as the winding 
 
86 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 road was once more in view, he crouched down 
 behind the roots of the great fallen oak. 
 
 " I don t want him ter git a glimge of me, 
 an skeer him off afore I kin lay a-holt on 
 him," he said. 
 
 He intended to keep the neighboring bush 
 under close watch, and through the interlac 
 ing roots he peered out furtively at it. His 
 eyes distended and he hastily rose from his 
 hiding-place. 
 
 The blackberry bush was swaying in the 
 wind, clothed only in its own scant and rusty 
 leaves. A wren perched on a spray, chirped 
 cheerful matins. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 His scheme was thwarted. The boy had 
 come and gone in his absence, all unaware of 
 his proximity and the impending punishment 
 so narrowly escaped. 
 
 But when Andy Byers reached the tanyard 
 and went to work, he said nothing to Birt. 
 He did not even allude to the counterfeit ap 
 parition in the woods, although Mrs. Price s 
 probable recovery was more than once under 
 discussion among the men who came and went, 
 indeed, she lived many years thereafter, to 
 defend her lucky grandchildren against every 
 device of discipline. Byers had given heed to 
 more crafty counsels. On the whole he was 
 now glad that he had not had the opportunity 
 to make Birt and the hickory sprout acquaint 
 ed with each other. This would be an ac 
 knowledgment that he had been terrified by 
 
88 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 the manufactured ghost, and he preferred 
 foregoing open revenge to encountering the 
 jocose tanner s ridicule, and the gibes that 
 would circulate at his expense throughout the 
 country-side. But he cherished the grievance, 
 and he resolved that Birt should rue it. He 
 had expected that Birt would boast of having 
 frightened him. He intended to admit that 
 he had been a trifle startled, and in treating 
 the matter thus lightly he hoped it would seem 
 that the apparition was a failure. 
 
 However, day by day passed and nothing 
 was said. The ghost vanished as mysteriously 
 as it had come. Only Mrs. Dicey, taking her 
 bonnet and apron and shawl from the chest, 
 was amazed at the extraordinary manner in 
 which they were folded and at their limp con 
 dition, and when she found a bunch of cockle- 
 burs in the worsted fringes of the shawl 
 she declared that witches must have had it, 
 for she had not worn it since early in April 
 when there were no cockle-burs. She forth 
 with nailed a horseshoe on the door to keep 
 the witches out, and she never liked the shawl 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 89 
 
 so well after she had projected a mental 
 picture of a lady wearing it, riding on a 
 broomstick, and sporting also a long peaked 
 nose. 
 
 Birt hardly noticed the crusty and ungra 
 cious conduct of Andy Byers toward him. 
 He worked on doggedly, scheming all the time 
 to get off from the tanyard, and wondering 
 again and again why Nate had gone, and 
 where, and when he would return. 
 
 One day a gray day it was and threaten 
 ing rain as he came suddenly out of the 
 shed, he saw a boy at the bars. It was Nate 
 Griggs ! No ; only for a moment he thought 
 this was Nate. But this fellow s eyes were 
 not so close together ; his hair was less sandy ; 
 there were no facial indications of extreme 
 slyness. It was only Nathan s humble like 
 ness, his younger brother, Timothy. 
 
 He had Nate s coat thrown over his arm, 
 and he shouldered his brother s rifle. 
 
 Tim came slouching slowly into the tan- 
 yard, a good-natured grin on his face. He 
 paused only to knock Rufe s hat over his eyes, 
 
90 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 as the small boy stood in front of the low- 
 spirited mule, both hands busy with the ani 
 mal s mouth, striving to open his jaws to judge 
 by^ his teeth how old he might be. 
 
 "The critter 11 bite ye, Kufe!" Birt ex- 
 claimed, for as Eufe stooped to pick up his 
 hat the mule showed some curiosity in his 
 turn, and was snuffling at Rufe s hay-colored 
 hair. 
 
 Rufe readjusted his head-gear, and ceasing 
 his impolite researches into the mule s age, 
 came up to the other two boys. Tim had 
 paused by the shed, and leaning upon the rifle, 
 began to talk. 
 
 " I war a-passin by, an I thought I d drap 
 in on ye." 
 
 "Hev you-uns hearn from Nate since he 
 hev been gone away?" demanded Birt anx 
 iously. 
 
 " He hev come home," responded Tim. 
 
 " When did he git home? " Birt asked with 
 increasing suspicion. 
 
 " Las week," said Tim carelessly. 
 
 Another problem ! Why had Nate not com- 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 91 
 
 municated with his partner about their pro 
 posed 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. 
 It pears like ter me he war in sech a hurry so 
 ez ter start me ter work, and nuthin else in 
 this worl . I owe Nate a debt, ye see, an I 
 hev ter work it out. I hev been so onlucky 
 ez I could n t make out ter pay him nohow in 
 the worl . Ye see, I traded with Nate fur a 
 shoat, an the spiteful beastis sneaked out n 
 my pen, an went rootin round the aidge o 
 the clearin , an war toted off bodaciously by 
 a bar ez war a-prowlin round thar. An I got 
 no good o that thar shoat, kase the bar hed 
 him, but I hed to pay fur him all the same. 
 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. 
 
92 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 " 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? He hev got a 
 grant fur it from the land-office down yander 
 in Sparty, whar he hev been." 
 
 " New land entered I " faltered Birt. 
 
 Tim nodded. "Nate fund a trac o land 
 a-layin ter suit his mind what b longed ter 
 nobody but the State vacant land, ye see 
 an so he went ter the entry-taker, they calls 
 him, an gits it 4 entered, an the surveyor 
 kem an medjured it, an then Nate got a 
 grant fur it, an now it air his n. The Gov nor 
 o the State hev sot his name ter that thar 
 grant the Gov nor o Tennessee ! " reiterated 
 Tim pridefully. "An the great seal o the 
 State!" 
 
 " Whar be the land ? " gasped Birt, possessed 
 by a dreadful fear. 
 
 His face was white, its muscles rigid. Its 
 altered expression could not for an instant 
 have escaped the notice of Timothy s brother 
 Nathan. 
 
 " Why, it lays bout n haffen mile off all 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 93 
 
 down the ravine nigh that thar salt-lick ; but 
 look-a-hyar, Birt what ails ye ? " 
 
 The stunned despair in the white face had 
 at last arrested his careless attention. 
 
 44 Don t ye be mindin of me I feel sorter 
 porely an sick all of a suddint ; tell on bout 
 the land an sech," said Birt. 
 
 He sat down on the end of the wood-pile, 
 and Tim, still leaning on the rifle, recom 
 menced. He was generally much cowed and 
 kept down by Nate, and was unaccustomed to 
 respect and consideration. Therefore he felt 
 a certain gratification in having so attentive a 
 listener. 
 
 ""Waal, I never hearn o this fashion o 
 enterin land like Nate done in all my life 
 afore ; though dad say that s the law in Ten 
 nessee, ter git a title ter vacant land ez jes 
 b longs ter the State. Mebbe them air the 
 ways ez Nate 1 arned whilst he war a-hangin 
 round the Settlemint so constant, an forever 
 talkin ter the men thar." 
 
 Birt s precocity had never let him feel at a 
 disadvantage with Nate, although his friend 
 
94 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 was five years older. Now he began to appre 
 ciate that Nate was indeed a man grown, and 
 had become sophisticated in the ways of his 
 primitive world by his association with the 
 other men at the Settlement. 
 
 There was a pause. But the luxury of being 
 allowed to talk without contradiction or re 
 buke presently induced Tim to proceed. 
 
 " He war hyar mighty nigh all day long," 
 he said reflectively. "He eat his dinner along 
 of we-uns." 
 
 "Who? the Gov nor o the State?" ex 
 claimed Birt, astounded. 
 
 "Naw, t war n t him" Tim admitted some 
 what reluctantly, since Birt seemed disposed 
 to credit ," we-uns " with a gubernatorial guest. 
 "It s the surveyor I m, talkin bout. Nate 
 hed ter pay him three dollars an better fur 
 medjurin the land. He tole Nate ez his land 
 war ez steep an rocky a spot ez thar war 
 in Tennessee from e-end ter e-end. He axed 
 Nate what ailed him ter hanker ter pay taxes 
 on sech a pack o bowlders an bresh. He 
 lowed the land war n t wuth a cent an acre." 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 95 
 
 "What did Nate say?" asked Birt, who 
 hung with feverish interest on every thought 
 less word. 
 
 " Waal, Nate lows ez he hev fund a cur ous 
 metal on his land; he say it air gold!" Tim 
 opened his eyes very wide, and smacked his 
 lips, as if the word tasted good. " He lowed 
 ez he needn t hev been in sech a hurry ter 
 enter his land, kase the entry-taker told it ter 
 him ez it air the law in Tennessee ez enny- 
 body ez finds a mine or val able min ral on 
 vacant land hev got six months extry ter 
 enter the land afore ennybody else kin, an ef 
 ennybody else wants ter enter it, they hev 
 ter gin the finder o the mine thirty days no 
 tice." 
 
 Tim winked, an impressive demonstration 
 but for the insufficiency of eyelashes : 
 
 " The surveyor he misdoubted, an lowed ez 
 gold hed never been fund in these parts. He 
 said they fund gold in them mountings furder 
 east bout twenty odd year ago in 1831, I 
 believe he said. He lowed them mountings 
 hain t got no coal like our n hev, an the 
 
96 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 Cumberland Mountings hain t got no gold. 
 An then in a minit he tuk ter misdoubtin on 
 the t other side o his mouth. He lowed ez 
 Nate s min ral mouglit be gold, an then ag in 
 it mought n t." 
 
 The essential difference between these two 
 extremes has afforded scope for vacillation to 
 more consistent men than the surveyor. 
 
 " 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." 
 
 Nate was in the habit of exacting similar 
 services from his acquiescent younger brother, 
 and Tim had his hands full, as he tried to hold 
 the gun, and turn the coat on his arm. He 
 finally hung the garment on a peg in the 
 shed, and shouldered the weapon. Suddenly he 
 whirled around toward Rufe, who was still 
 standing by. 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 97 
 
 " What in the nation air inside o that thar 
 boy?" he exclaimed. "A chicken, ain t it?" 
 
 For a musical treble chirping was heard pro 
 ceeding apparently from Rufe s pocket. This 
 chicken differed from others that Rufe had 
 put away, in being alive and hearty. 
 
 The small boy entered into the conversation 
 with great spirit, to tell that a certain hen 
 which he owned had yesterday come off her 
 nest with fourteen of the spryest deedies that 
 ever stepped. One in especial had so won 
 upon Rufe by its beauty and grace of deport 
 ment that he was carrying it about with him, 
 feeding it at close intervals, and housing it in 
 the security of his pocket. 
 
 The deedie hardly made a moan. There 
 was no use in remonstrating with Rufe, 
 everything that came within his eccentric or 
 bit seemed to realize that, and the deedie 
 was contentedly nestling down in his pocket, 
 apparently resigned to lead the life of a porte- 
 monnaie. 
 
 Rufe narrated with pardonable pride the 
 fact that, some time before, his great-uncle, 
 
98 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 Rufus Dicey, had sent to him from the " val 
 ley kentry " a present of a pair of game chick 
 ens, and that this deedie was from the first 
 egg hatched in the game hen s brood. 
 
 But Rufe was not selfish. He offered to 
 give Tim one of the chicks. Now poultry was 
 Tim s weakness. He accepted with more haste 
 than was seemly, and at once asked for the 
 deedie in the small boy s pocket. Rufe, how 
 ever, refused to part from the chick of his 
 adoption, and presently Tim, with the gun on 
 his shoulder, left the tanyard in company with 
 Rufe, to look over the brood of game chicks, 
 and make a selection from among them. 
 
 Birt hardly noticed what they did or said. 
 Every faculty was absorbed in considering the 
 wily game which his false friend had played 
 so successfully. It was all plain enough now. 
 The fruit of his discovery would be plucked 
 by other hands. There was to be no division 
 of the profits. Nate Griggs had coveted the 
 whole. His craft had secured it for himself 
 alone. He had the legal title to the land, the 
 mine all ! There seemed absolutely no vul- 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 99 
 
 nerable point in his scheme. With suddenly 
 sharpened perceptions, Birt realized that if he 
 should now claim the discovery and the conse 
 quent 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 con 
 sidered a groundless boast, actuated by envy 
 and jealousy. He had told no one but Nate 
 of his discovery and would not Nate now 
 deny it ! 
 
 However, one thing in the future was cer 
 tain, Nathan Griggs should not escape alto 
 gether scathless. For a long time Birt sat 
 motionless^ revolving vengeful purposes in his 
 mind. Every moment he grew more bitter, as 
 he reflected upon his wrecked scheme, his won 
 derful fatuity, and the double dealing of his 
 chosen coadjutor. But he would get even with 
 Nate Griggs yet ; he promised himself that, 
 he would get even ! 
 
 At last the falling darkness warned him 
 home. When he rose his limbs trembled, his 
 head was in a whirl, and the familiar scene 
 
100 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 swayed, strange and distorted, before him. 
 He steadied himself after a moment, finished 
 the odd jobs he had left undone, and presently 
 was trudging homeward. 
 
 A heavy black cloud overhung the woods ; 
 an expectant stillness brooded upon the sultry 
 world ; an angry storm was in the air. The 
 first vivid flash and simultaneous peal burst 
 from the sky as he reached the passage be 
 tween the two rooms. 
 
 " Ye air powerful perlite ter come a-step- 
 pin home jes at supper-time," said his mother 
 advancing to meet him. " Ye lef no wood 
 hyar, an ye said ye would borry the mule, an 
 come home early a-purpose to haul some. An 
 me hyar with nuthin to cook supper with but 
 sech chips an blocks an bresh ez I could 
 pick up off n the groun ." 
 
 Birt s troubles had crowded out the recollec 
 tion of this domestic duty. 
 
 " I clean furgot," he admitted, penitently. 
 
 Then he asked suddenly, "An whar war 
 Rufe, an Pete, an Joe, ez ye hed ter go ter 
 pickin up of chips an sech off n the groun ? " 
 
DOWN THE RAWNE. 101 
 
 He turned toward the group of small boys. 
 44 Air you-uns all disabled somehows, ez ye 
 can t pick up chips an bresh an sech?" he 
 said. " An ef ye air, why n t ye go ter the 
 tanyard arter me ? " 
 
 "They war all off in the woods, a-lookin 
 arter Rufe s trap ez ye sot fur squir ls," Mrs. 
 Dicey explained. " It hed one in it, an I 
 cooked it fur supper." 
 
 Birt said that he could go out early with his 
 axe and cut enough wood for breakfast to-mor 
 row, and then he fell silent. Once or twice 
 his preoccupied demeanor called forth com 
 ment. 
 
 "Why n t ye eat some o the squir l, Birt?" 
 his mother asked at the supper table. " Pears- 
 like ter me ez it air cooked toler ble tasty." 
 
 Birt could not eat. He soon rose from the 
 table and resumed his chair by the window, 
 and for half an hour no word passed between 
 them. 
 
 The thunder seemed to roll on the very roof 
 of the cabin, and it trembled beneath the 
 heavy fall of the rain. At short intervals a 
 
102 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 terrible blue light quivered through crevices in 
 the "daubin" between the logs of the wall, 
 and about the rude shutter which closed the 
 glassless window. Now and then a crash from 
 the forest told of a riven tree. But the storm 
 had no terrors for the inmates of this humble 
 dwelling. Pete and Joe had already gone to 
 bed; Tennessee had fallen asleep while play 
 ing on the floor, and Eufe 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. At length he 
 softly rose and crept noiselessly to the door ; 
 the fastening was the primitive latch with a 
 string attached ; it opened without a sound in 
 his cautious handling, and he found himself in 
 the pitchy darkness outside, the wild mountain 
 wind whirling about him, and the rain de 
 scending in steady torrents. 
 
 He had stumbled only a few steps from the 
 house when he thought he indistinctly heard 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 103 
 
 the door open again. He dreaded his moth 
 er s questions, but he stopped and looked 
 back. 
 
 He saw nothing. There was no sound save 
 the roar of the wind, the dash of the rain, 
 and the commotion among the branches of the 
 trees. 
 
 He went on once more, absorbed in his 
 dreary reflections and the fierce anger that 
 burned in his heart. 
 
 " I 11 git even with Nate Griggs," he said, 
 over and again. " 1 11 git even with him 
 
 yit." 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 WHEN Birt reached the fence, he discov 
 ered that the bars were down. Rufe had for 
 gotten to replace them that afternoon when he 
 drove in the cow to be milked. Despite his 
 absorption, Birt paused to put them up, re 
 membering the vagrant mountain cattle that 
 might stray in upon the corn. He found the 
 familiar little job difficult enough, for it 
 seemed to him that there was never before so 
 black a night. Even looking upward, he could 
 not see the great wind-tossed boughs of the 
 chestnut-oak above his head. He only knew 
 they were near, because acorns dropped upon 
 the rail in his hands, and rebounded reso 
 nantly. But an owl, blown helplessly down 
 the gale, was not much better off, for all its 
 vaunted nocturnal vision. As it drifted by, 
 on the currents of the wind, its noiseless, out- 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 105 
 
 stretched wings, vainly flapping, struck Birt 
 suddenly in the face, and frightened by the 
 collision, it gave an odd, peevish squeak. 
 
 Birt, too, was startled for a moment. Then 
 he exclaimed irritably, " Oh, g way owel " 
 realizing what had struck him. 
 
 The next moment he paused abruptly. He 
 thought he heard, close at hand, amongst the 
 glooms, a faint chuckle. Something was it ? 
 somebody laughing in the darkness ? 
 
 He stood intently listening. But now he 
 heard only the down-pour of the rain, the so 
 norous gusts of the wind, the multitudinous 
 voices of the muttering leaves. 
 
 He said to himself that it was fancy. " All 
 this trouble ez I hev hed along o Nate Griggs 
 hev mighty nigh addled my brains." 
 
 The name recalled his resolve. 
 
 " I 11 git even with him, though. I 11 git 
 even with him yit," he reiterated as he plodded 
 on heavily down the path, his mind once more 
 busy with all the details of his discovery, his 
 misplaced confidence, and the wreck of his 
 hopes. 
 
106 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 It seemed so hard that he should never be 
 fore have heard of " entering land," and of 
 that law of the State according priority to the 
 finder of mineral. The mine was his, but he 
 had hid the discovery from all but Nate, who 
 claimed it himself, and had secured the legal 
 title. 
 
 " But I 11 git even with him," he said reso 
 lutely between his set teeth. 
 
 He had thought it a lucky chance to remem 
 ber, in his reverie before the fire-lit hearth, 
 that peg in the shed at the tanyard on which 
 Tim had hung his brother s coat. Somehow 
 the episode of the afternoon had left so vivid 
 an impression on Birt s mind that hours after 
 ward he seemed to see the dull, clouded sky, 
 the sombre, encircling woods, the brown stretch 
 of spent tan, the little gray shed, and within 
 it, hanging upon a peg, the butternut jeans 
 coat, a stiff white paper protruding from its 
 pocket. 
 
 That grant, he thought, had taken from him 
 his rights. He would destroy it he would 
 tear it into bits, and cast it to the turbulent 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 107 
 
 mountain winds. It was not his, to be sure. 
 But was it justly Nate s ? he had no right to 
 enter the land down the ravine. 
 
 And so Birt argued with his conscience. 
 
 Now wherever Conscience calls a halt, it is 
 no place for Keason to debate the question. 
 The way ahead is no thoroughfare. 
 
 Birt did not recognize the tearing of the 
 paper as stealing, but he knew that all this 
 was morally wrong, although he would not 
 admit it. He would not forego his revenge 
 it was too dear ; he was too deeply injured. 
 In the anger that possessed his every faculty, 
 he did not appreciate its futility. 
 
 There were other facts which he did not 
 know. He was ignorant that the deed which 
 he contemplated was a crime in the estimation 
 of the law, a penitentiary offense. 
 
 And toward this terrible pitfall he trudged 
 in the darkness, saying over and again to him 
 self, " I 11 git even with Nate Griggs ; he 11 
 hey no grant, no land, no gold no more n 
 me. I 11 git even with him." 
 
 His progress seemed incredibly slow as he 
 
108 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 groped along the path. But the rain soon 
 ceased ; the wind began to scatter the clouds ; 
 through a rift he saw a great, glittering planet 
 blazing high above their dark turmoils. 
 
 How the drops pattered down as the wind 
 tossed the laurel ! once they sounded like 
 footfalls close behind him. He turned and 
 looked back into the obscurities of the forest. 
 Nothing a frog had begun to croak far 
 away, and the vibrations of the katydid were 
 strident on the damp air. 
 
 And here was the tanyard, a denser area of 
 gloom marking where the house and shed 
 stood in the darkness. He did not hesitate. 
 He stepped over the bars, which lay as usual 
 on the ground, and walked across the yard to 
 the shed. The eaves were dripping with mois 
 ture. But the coat, still hanging within on 
 the peg, was dry. 
 
 He had a thrill of repulsion when he 
 touched it. His hand fell. 
 
 " But look how Nate hev treated me," he 
 remonstrated with his conscience. 
 
 The next moment he had drawn the grant 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 109 
 
 half-way out of the pocket, and as he moved 
 he almost stepped upon something close be 
 hind him. All at once he knew what it was, 
 even before a flash of the distant lightning 
 revealed a little tow-head down in the dark 
 ness, and a pair of black eyes raised to his in 
 perfect confidence. 
 
 It was the little sister who had followed him 
 to-night, as she always did when she could. 
 
 " Stand back thar, Tennessee ! " he faltered. 
 
 He was trembling from head to foot. And 
 yet Tennessee was far too young to tell that 
 she had seen the grant in his hands, to under 
 stand, even to question. But had he been 
 seized by the whole Griggs tribe, he could not 
 have been so panic-stricken as he was by the 
 sight of that unknowing little head, the touch 
 of the chubby little hand on his knee. 
 
 He thrust the grant back into the pocket of 
 Nate s coat. His resolve was routed by the 
 presence of love and innocence. Not here 
 not now could he be vindictive, malicious. 
 With some urgent, inborn impulse strongly 
 constraining him, he caught the little sister in 
 
110 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 his arms, and fled headlong through the dark 
 ness, homeward. 
 
 As he went he was amazed that he should 
 have contemplated this revenge. 
 
 " Why, I can t afford ter be a scoundrel an 
 sech, jes kase Nate Griggs air a tricky feller 
 an hev fooled me. Ef Tennessee hed n t 
 stepped up so powerful peart I mought n t hev 
 come ter my senses in time. I mought hev 
 tore up Nate s grant by now. But arter this 
 I ain t never goin ter set out ter act like a 
 scamp jes kase somebody else does." 
 
 His conscience had prevailed, his better self 
 returned. And when he reached home, and 
 opening the door saw his mother still nodding 
 over her knitting, and Eufe asleep in his chair, 
 and the fire smouldering on the hearth, all 
 as he had left it, he might have thought that 
 he had dreamed the temptation and his rescue, 
 but for his dripping garments and Tennessee 
 in his arms all soaking with the rain. 
 
 The noise of his entrance roused his mother, 
 who stared in drowsy astonishment at the be 
 draggled apparition on the threshold. 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. Ill 
 
 " Tennie follered me ter the tanyard fore I 
 fund her out," Birt explained. " It pears ter 
 hev rained on her, considerable," he added 
 deprecatingly. 
 
 Tennie was looking eagerly over her shoul 
 der to note the effect of this statement. Her 
 streaming hair flirted drops of water on the 
 floor ; her cheeks were ruddy ; her black eyes 
 brightened with apprehension. 
 
 "Waal, sir! that thar child beats all! 
 Never mind, Tennie, ye 11 meet up with a wild 
 varmint some day when ye air follerin Birt 
 off from the house, an I ain t surprised none 
 ef it eats ye ! But shucks ! " Mrs. Dicey con 
 tinued impersonally, " I mought ez well save 
 my breath ; Tennie ain t feared o nuthin , ef 
 Birt air by." 
 
 The word " varmint " seemed to recall some 
 thing to Tennessee. She began to chatter un 
 intelligibly about an " owe/," and to chuckle 
 so, that Birt had sudden light upon that mys 
 terious laugh which he had heard behind him 
 at the bars. 
 
 In his pride in Tennessee he related how 
 
112 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 the owl had startled him, and the little girl, 
 invisible in the darkness, had laughed. 
 
 " Tennessee ain t pretty, I know, but she air 
 powerful peart," he said, affectionately, as he 
 placed her upon her feet on the floor. 
 
 Birt was out early with his axe the next 
 day. The air was delightfully pure after the 
 rain-storm; the sky, gradually becoming visi 
 ble, wore the ideal azure ; the freshened foli 
 age seemed tinted anew. And the morning 
 was pierced by the gilded, glittering javelins of 
 the sunrise, flung from over the misty eastern 
 mountains. As the day dawned all sylvan 
 fascinations were alert in the woods. The 
 fragrant winds were garrulous with wild le 
 gends of piney gorges ; of tumultuous cascades 
 fringed by thyme and mint and ferns. Every 
 humble weed lent odorous suggestions. The 
 airy things all took to wing. And the spider 
 was a-weaving. 
 
 Birt had felled a slender young ash, and was 
 cutting it into lengths for the fireplace, when 
 he noticed a squirrel, sleek woodland dandy, 
 frisking about a rotten log at some little dis 
 tance, by the roadside. 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 113 
 
 Suddenly the squirrel paused, then nimbly 
 sped away. There was the sound of approach 
 ing hoofs along the road, and presently from 
 around the curve a woman appeared mounted 
 on a sorrel mare, and with* a long-legged colt 
 ambling in the rear. 
 
 It was Mrs. Griggs, setting out on a journey 
 of some ten miles to visit her married daugh 
 ter who lived on a neighboring spur. She had 
 taken an early start to "git rid o the heat 
 o the noon," as she explained to Mrs. Dicey, 
 who had run out to the rail fence when she 
 reined up beside it. Birt dropped his axe and 
 joined them, expecting to hear more about 
 Nate s grant and the gold mine. Rufe and 
 Tennessee added their company without any 
 definite intention. Pete and Joe were hurry 
 ing out of the house toward the group. All 
 the dogs congregated, some of them climbing 
 over the fence to investigate the colt, which 
 was skittish under the ordeal. Even the tur 
 key-gobbler, strutting on the outskirts of the 
 assemblage, had an attentive aspect, as if he, 
 too, relished the gossip. 
 
114 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 Mrs. Griggs s pink calico sunbonnet sur 
 mounted the cap with the explanatory ruffle. 
 She carried a fan of turkey feathers, and with 
 appropriate gesticulation, it aided in expound 
 ing to Mrs. Dicey the astonishing news that 
 Nate had found a gold mine on vacant land, 
 and had entered the tract. They intended to 
 send specimens to the State Assayer, and they 
 were all getting ready to begin work at once. 
 
 Another surprise to Birt! The ignorant 
 mountain boy had never heard of the Assayer. 
 But indeed Nate had only learned of the ex 
 istence of the office and its uses during that 
 memorable trip to Sparta. 
 
 The prideful Mrs. Griggs from her eleva 
 tion, literal and metaphorical, supplemented 
 all this by the creditable statements that Nate 
 had turned twenty-one, had cast his vote, and 
 had a right to a choice at the Cross-roads. 
 
 Then she chirruped to the rawboned sorrel 
 mare, and jogged off down the road, followed 
 by the frisky colt, whose long, slender legs 
 when in motion seemed so fragile that it was 
 startling to witness the temerity with which he 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 115 
 
 kicked up his frolicsome heels. The dogs, 
 with that odd canine affectation of having just 
 perceived the intruders, pursued them with 
 sudden asperity, barking and snapping, and at 
 last came trotting nimbly home, wagging their 
 tails and with a dutiful mien. 
 
 Mrs. Dicey went back into the house, and 
 sat for a time in envious meditation, fairly si 
 lenced, and with her apron flung over her face. 
 Then she fell to lamenting that she had been 
 working all her life for nothing, and it would 
 take so little to make the family comfortable, 
 and that her children seemed " disabled some 
 how in thar heads, an though always rootin 
 around in the woods, hed never fund no gold 
 mine nor nuthin else out o the common." 
 
 Birt kept silent, but the gloom and trouble 
 in his face suddenly touched her heart. 
 
 " Thar now, Birt ! " she exclaimed, with a 
 world of consolation in her tones, " I don t 
 mean ter say that, nuther. Ain t I a-thinkin 
 day an night o how smart ye be stiddy 
 an sensible an hard-workin jes like a man 
 an what a good son ye hev been to me ! An 
 
116 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 the t other chill n air good too, an holps me 
 powerful, though Kufe air hendered some, by 
 the comical natur o the critter." 
 
 She broke out with a cheerful laugh, in 
 which Birt could not join. 
 
 "An I mus be gittin breakfus fur the 
 chill n," she said, kneeling down on the hearth, 
 and uncovering the embers which had been 
 kept all night under the ashes. 
 
 " Don t ye fret, sonny. I ain t goin ter 
 grudge Nate his gold mine. I reckon sech a 
 good son ez ye be, an a gold mine too, would 
 be too much luck fur one woman. Don t ye 
 fret, sonny." 
 
 Birt s self-control gave way abruptly. He 
 rose in great agitation, and started toward the 
 door. Then he paused, and broke forth with 
 passionate incoherence, telling amidst sobs and 
 tears the story of the woodland s munificence 
 to him, and how he had flung the gift away. 
 
 In recounting the hopes that had deluded 
 him, the fears that had gnawed, and the de 
 spair in which they were at last merged, he 
 did not notice, for a time, her look as she still 
 
DOWN THE RA17NE. 117 
 
 knelt motionless before the embers on the 
 hearth. 
 
 He faltered, and grew silent ; then stared 
 dumbly at her. 
 
 She seemed as one petrified. Her face had 
 blanched ; its lines were as sharp and distinct 
 as if graven in stone ; only her eyes spoke, an 
 eloquent anguish. Her faculties were numbed 
 for a moment. But presently there was a 
 quiver in her chin, and her voice rang out. 
 
 And yet did she understand? did she real 
 ize the loss of the mine ? For it was not this 
 that she lamented ! 
 
 " Birt Dicey ! " she cried in an appalled 
 tone. " Did ye hide it from yer mother an* 
 teU Nate Griggs ? " 
 
 Birt hung his head. The folly of it ! 
 
 " What ailed ye, ter hide it from me ? " she 
 asked deprecatingly, holding out her worn, 
 hard-working hands. " Hev I ever done ye 
 harm?" 
 
 " Nuthin but good." 
 
 " Don t everybody know a boy s mother air 
 bound ter take his part agin all the worl ? " 
 
118 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 "Everybody but me," said the penitent 
 Birt. 
 
 " What ailed ye, ter hide it from me ? 
 What did ye low I d do ? " 
 
 " I lowed ye would n t want me ter go pard- 
 ners with Nate," he said drearily. 
 
 " I reckon I would n t ! " she admitted. 
 
 " Ye always said he war a snake in the 
 grass." 
 
 " He hev proved that air a true word." 
 
 " I wisht I hed n t tole him ! " cried Birt 
 vainly. " I wisht I hed n t." 
 
 He watched her with moody eyes as she 
 rose at last with a sigh and went mechanically 
 about her preparations for breakfast. 
 
 There was a division between them. He 
 felt the gulf widening. 
 
 " I jes wanted it fur you-uns, ennyhow," 
 he said, defending his motives. " I lowed ez 
 I mought make enough out n it ter buy a 
 horse." 
 
 " I hain t got time ter sorrow bout n no 
 gold mine," she said loftily. " I used ter be 
 lieve ye set a heap o store by yer mother, an 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 119 
 
 war willin ter trust her ye an me hevin 
 been through mighty hard times together. But 
 ye don t I reckon ye never did. I hev los 
 mo than enny gold mine." 
 
 And this sorrow for a vanished faith re 
 solved itself into tears with which she salted 
 her humble bread. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 IF she had had any relish for triumph, she 
 might have found it in Birt s astonishment to 
 learn that she understood all the details of 
 entering land, which had been such a mystery 
 to him. 
 
 " T war the commonest thing in the worl , 
 whenst I war young, ter hear bout n folks en- 
 terin land," she said. " But nowadays thar 
 ain t no talk bout n it sca cely, kase the best 
 an most o the land in the State hev all been 
 tuk up an entered ceptin mebbe a trac , 
 hyar an thar, full o rock, an so steep t ain t 
 wuth payin the taxes on." 
 
 Simple as she was, she could have given him 
 valuable counsel when it was sorely needed. 
 
 He hung about the house later than was his 
 wont, bringing in the store of wood for her 
 work during the day, and " packing " the 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 121 
 
 water from the spring, with the impulse in his 
 attention to these little duties to make what 
 amends he might. 
 
 When at last he started for the tanyard, he 
 knew by the sun that he was long over-due. 
 He walked briskly along the path through 
 the sassafras and sumach bushes, on which 
 the rain-drops still clung. He was presently 
 brushing them off in showers, for he had 
 begun to run. It occurred to him that this 
 was no time to seem even a trifle remiss in his 
 work at the tanyard. Since he had lost all 
 his hopes down the ravine, the continuance of 
 Jube Perkins s favor and the dreary routine 
 with the mule and the bark-mill were his best 
 prospects. It would never do to offend the 
 tanner now. 
 
 " With sech a pack o chill n ter vittle ez 
 we-uns hev got at our house," he muttered. 
 
 As he came crashing through the under 
 brush into view of the tanyard, he noticed in 
 stantly that it did not wear its usual simple, 
 industrial aspect. A group of excited men 
 were standing in front of the shed, one of 
 them gesticulating wildly. 
 
122 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 And running toward the bars came Tim 
 Griggs, panting and white-faced, and exclaim 
 ing incoherently at the sight of Birt. 
 
 " Oh, Birt," he cried, " I war jes startin to 
 yer house arter you-uns ; they tole me to go 
 an fetch ye. Fur massy s sake, gimme Nate s 
 grant. I m fairly af eared o him. He 11 break 
 every bone I own." He held out his hand. 
 " Gimme the grant ! " 
 
 " Nate s grant ! " exclaimed Birt aghast. " I 
 hain t got it ! I hain t " 
 
 He paused abruptly. He could not say that 
 he had not touched it. 
 
 Tim s wits were sharpened by the keen anx 
 iety of the crisis. He noticed the hesitation. 
 " Ye hev hed it," he cried wildly. " Ye know 
 ye hev been foolin with it. Ye know t war 
 you-uns ! " 
 
 He changed to sudden appeal. " Don t put 
 the blame off on me, Birt," he pleaded. " I m 
 fairly afeared o Nate." 
 
 " Ain t the grant in the pocket o his coat 
 whar ye left it hangin on a peg in the 
 shed ? " asked Birt, dismayed. 
 
DOWN THE RAJVNE. 123 
 
 " Naw naw ! " exclaimed Tim, despair 
 ingly. " He missed his coat this mornin , 
 bein the weather war cooler, an then the 
 grant, an he sent me arter it. An I fund the 
 coat a-hangin thar on the peg, whar I hed lef 
 it, bein ez I furgot it when I went off with 
 Kufe ter look at his chickens, an the pocket 
 war empty an the paper gone ! Nate hev kem 
 ter sarch, too ! " 
 
 Once more he held out his hand. " Gimme 
 the grant. Nate lows t war you-uns ez tuk 
 it, bein ez I lef it hyar." 
 
 Birt flushed angrily. " I 11 say a word ter 
 Nate Griggs ! " he declared. 
 
 And he pushed past the trembling Tim, and 
 took his way briskly into the tanyard. 
 
 There was a vague murmur in the group as 
 he approached, and Nate Griggs came out 
 from its midst, nodding his head threateningly. 
 His hat, thrust far back on his sandy hair, left 
 in bold relief his long, thin face with its small 
 eyes, which seemed now so close together that 
 his glance had the effect of a squint. He 
 scanned Birt narrowly. 
 
124 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 This was the first time the two had met 
 since Birt s ill-starred confidence there by the 
 bark-mill. 
 
 " What ails ye, ter low ez it air me ez hev 
 got yer grant, Nate Griggs?" Birt asked, 
 steadily meeting the accusation. 
 
 The excitement had impaired for the mo 
 ment Nate Griggs s cunning. 
 
 " Kase," he blurted out, "ye hev been 
 a-tryin ter purtend ez ye fund the mine 
 fust, an hev been a-tellin folks bout n it." 
 
 "Prove it," said Birt, in sudden elation. 
 " Who war it I tole, an when ? " 
 
 The sly Nathan caught his breath with a 
 gasp. His craft had returned. 
 
 Admit that to him Birt had divulged the 
 discovery of the mine ! Confess, when ! This 
 would invalidate the entry ! 
 
 " Ye tole Tim," Nate said shamelessly, " an 
 ez ter when t war yestiddy evenin at the 
 tanyard. Did n t he, Tim ? " And he whirled 
 around to his younger brother for confirma 
 tion of this audacious and deliberate false 
 hood. 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 125 
 
 The abject Tim poor tool ! frightened 
 and cowering, nodded to admit it. " Gimme 
 the grant, Birt," he faltered, helplessly. " I 
 ought n t ter hev furgot it." 
 
 " Look-a-hyar, Birt," said the tanner with 
 a solemnity which the boy did not altogether 
 understand, " gin Nate the grant." 
 
 "I hain t got it," replied Birt, badgered 
 and growing nervous. 
 
 " Tell him, then, ye never teched it." 
 
 Birt s impulse was to adopt the word. But 
 he had seen enough of falsehood. He had 
 done with concealment. 
 
 " I did tech it," he said boldly, " but I hain t 
 got it. I put it back in the pocket o the 
 coat." 
 
 Jube Perkins laid a sudden hand upon his 
 collar. " Tain t no use denyin it, Birt," he 
 said with the sharp cadence of dismay. " Gin 
 the grant back ter Nate, an mebbe he won t 
 go no furder bout n it. Stealin a paper like 
 that air a pen tiary crime ! " 
 
 Birt reeled under the word. He thought of 
 his mother, the children. He had a bitter 
 
126 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 foretaste of the suspense, the fear, the humili 
 ation. And he was helpless. For no one 
 would believe him ! His head was in a whirl. 
 He could not stand. He sank down upon the 
 wood-pile, vaguely hearing a word here and 
 there of what was said in the crowd. 
 
 " His mother air a widder-woman," re 
 marked one of the group. " An she air 
 mighty poor." 
 
 Andy Byers was laughing cynically. 
 
 Absorbed though he was, Birt experienced 
 a subacute wonder that any one could feel so 
 bitterly toward him as to laugh at a moment 
 like this. How had he made Andy Byers his 
 enemy ! 
 
 Nobody noticed it, for Nate was swaggering 
 about in the crowd, enjoying this conspicuous 
 opportunity to display all the sophistications 
 he had acquired in his recent trip to Sparta. 
 He was calling upon them to witness that he 
 did not care for the loss of the grant the 
 paper was nothing to him ! for it w r as on 
 record in the land office, and he could get a 
 certified copy from the register in no time at 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 127 
 
 all. But his rights were his rights ! and 
 ten thousand Diceys should not trample on 
 them. Birt had doubtless thought, being ig 
 norant, that he could destroy the title by mak 
 ing away with the paper ; and if there was law 
 in the State, he should suffer for it. 
 
 And after this elaborate rodomontade, Nate 
 strode out of the tanyard, with the obsequious 
 Tim following humbly. 
 
 Birt told his story again and again, to sat 
 isfy curious questioners during the days thai; 
 ensued. And when he had finished they would 
 look significantly at one another, and chuckle 
 incredulously. 
 
 The tanner seemed to earnestly wish to be 
 friend him, and urged him to confess. " The 
 truth s the only thing ez kin save ye, Birt." 
 
 " I m tellin the truth," poor Birt would de 
 clare. 
 
 Then Jube Perkins argued the question: 
 " How kin ye expec ennybody ter b lieve ye 
 when ye say Tennessee purvented ye from 
 takin the grant ennything the size o leetle 
 Tennie, thar." 
 
128 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 And he pointed at the little sister, who was 
 perched upon the wood-pile munching an In 
 dian peach. 
 
 Somehow Birt did not accurately define the 
 moral force which she had wielded, for he was 
 untaught, and clumsy of speech, and could not 
 translate his feelings. And Jube Perkins was 
 hardly fitted to understand that subtle coer 
 cion of affection. 
 
 When he found that Birt would only reit 
 erate that Tennie "kern along unbeknown an 
 purvented " him, Jube Perkins gave up the 
 effort at last, convinced of his guilt. 
 
 And Andy Byers said that he was not sur 
 prised, for he had known for some little time 
 that Birt was a " most miscJiievious scamp." 
 
 Only his mother believed in him, requiting 
 his lack of confidence in her with a fervor of 
 faith in him that, while it consoled, neverthe 
 less cut him to the heart. It has been many 
 years since then, for all this happened along 
 in the fifties, but Birt has never forgotten how 
 staunchly she upheld him in every thought 
 when all the circumstances belied him. Now 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 129 
 
 that misfortune had touched him, every trace 
 of her caustic moods had disappeared ; she 
 was all gentleness and tenderness toward him. 
 And day by day as he went to his work, meet 
 ing everywhere a short word, or a slighting 
 look, he felt that he could not have borne up, 
 save for the knowledge of that loyal heart at 
 home. 
 
 He was momently in terror of arrest, and 
 he often pondered on Nate s uncharacteristic 
 forbearance. Perhaps Nate was afraid that 
 Birt s story, told from the beginning in court, 
 might constrain belief and affect the validity 
 of the entry. 
 
 Birt vainly speculated, too, upon the strange 
 disappearance of the grant. There it was in 
 the pocket of the coat late that night, and the 
 next morning early gone ! 
 
 Sometimes he suspected that Nate had only 
 made a pretense of losing the grant, in order 
 to accuse him and prejudice public opinion 
 against him, so that he might not be believed 
 should he claim the discovery of the mineral 
 down the ravine. 
 
 9 
 
130 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 His mother sought to keep him from dwell 
 ing upon his troubles. " We won t cross the 
 bredge till we git thar," she said. " Mebbe 
 thar ain t none ahead." But her fears for his 
 sake tortured her silent hours when he was 
 away. When he came back from his work, 
 there always awaited him a bright fire, a good 
 supper, and cheerful words as well, although 
 these were the most difficult to prepare. The 
 dogs bounded about him, Tennessee clung to 
 his hand, the boys were hilarious and loud. 
 
 By reason of their mother s silence on the 
 subject, that Birt might be better able to go, 
 and work, and hold up his head among the 
 men who suspected him, the children for a 
 time knew nothing of what had happened. 
 
 Now Rufe, although his faults were many 
 and conspicuous, was not lacking in natural 
 affection. Had he understood that a cloud 
 overhung Birt, he could not have been so mer 
 ry, so facetious, so queerly and quaintly bad 
 as he was on his visits to the tanyard, which 
 were peculiarly frequent just now. If Birt 
 had had the heart for it, he might have enjoyed 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 131 
 
 some of Eufe s pranks at the expense of Andy 
 Byers. The man had once found a sort of 
 entertainment in making fun of Rufe, and this 
 had encouraged the small boy to retaliate as 
 best he could. 
 
 At this time, however, Byers suddenly be 
 came the gravest of men. He took little no 
 tice of the wiles of his elfish antagonist, and 
 whenever he fell into a snare devised by Rufe, 
 he was irritable for a moment, and had forgot 
 ten it the next. He had never a word or 
 glance for Birt, who marveled at his conduct. 
 He seemed perpetually brooding upon some 
 perplexity. Occasionally in the midst of his 
 work he would stand motionless for five min 
 utes, the two-handled knife poised in his grasp, 
 his eyes fixed upon the ground, his shaggy 
 brows heavily knitted, his expression doubting, 
 anxious. 
 
 The tanner commented upon this inactivity, 
 one day. " Hev ye tuk root thar, Andy ? " 
 he asked. 
 
 Byers roused himself with a start. " Naw," 
 he replied reflectively, " but I hev been 
 
132 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 troubled in my mind some, lately, an I gits 
 ter studyin powerful wunst in a while." 
 
 As he bent to his work, scraping the two- 
 handled knife up and down the hide stretched 
 over the wooden horse, he added, " I hev got 
 so ez I can t relish my vittles sca cely, bein so 
 tormented in my mind, an my sleep air plumb 
 broke up ; pears like ter me ez I hev got a 
 reg lar gift fur the nightmare." 
 
 " Been skeered by old Mis Price s harnt 
 lately?" Rufe asked suddenly from his perch 
 upon the wood-pile. 
 
 Byers whirled round abruptly, fixing an as 
 tonished gaze upon Rufe, unmindful that the 
 knife slipped from his grasp, and fell clanking 
 upon the ground. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THIS grave, eager gaze Rufe returned with 
 the gayest audacity. 
 
 " Been skeered by old Mis Price s harnt 
 lately?" he once more chirped out gleefully. 
 
 He was comical enough, as he sat on the top 
 of the wood-pile, hugging his knees with both 
 arms, his old, bent, wool hat perched on the 
 back of his tow head, and all his jagged squir 
 rel teeth showing themselves, unabashed, in a 
 wide grin. 
 
 Jubal Perkins laughed lazily, as he looked 
 at him. 
 
 Then, with that indulgence which Rufe al 
 ways met at the tanyard, and which served to 
 make him so pert and forward, the tanner said, 
 humoring the privileged character, " What be 
 you-uns a-talkin bout, boy ? Mrs. Price ain t 
 dead." 
 
134 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 "He hev viewed old Mis Price s harnt," 
 cried Rufe, pointing at Andy Byers, with a jo 
 cosely crooked finger. " He air so peart an 
 forehanded a-viewin harnts, he don t hev to 
 wait till folkses be dead. He hev seen Mis 
 Price s harnt an it plumb skeered the wits 
 out n him." 
 
 Perkins did not understand this. His in 
 terest was suddenly alert. He took his pipe 
 from his mouth, and glanced over his shoulder 
 at Byers. " What air Kufe aiinin at, Andy ? " 
 he asked, surprised. 
 
 Byers did not reply. He still gazed stead 
 fastly at Rufe ; the knife lay unheeded on the 
 ground at his feet, and the hide was slipping 
 from the wooden horse. 
 
 At last he said slowly, " Birt tole ye bout n 
 it, eh?" 
 
 " Naw, sir ! Naw ! " Rufe rocked himself 
 fantastically to and fro in imminent peril of 
 toppling off the wood-pile. " T war Tom 
 Byers ez tole me." 
 
 " Tom ! " exclaimed Byers, with a galvanic 
 start. 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 135 
 
 For Tom was his son, and he had not sus 
 pected filial treachery in the matter of the 
 spectral blackberry bush. 
 
 Rufe stared in his turn, not comprehending 
 Byers s surprise. 
 
 " Tom" he reiterated presently, with mock 
 ing explicitness. " Tom Byers I reckon ye 
 knows him. That thar freckled-faced, snag- 
 gled-toothed, red-headed Tom Byers, ez lives 
 at yer house. I reckon ye mus* know him." 
 
 " Tom tole ye what ? " asked the tanner, 
 puzzled by Byers s grave, anxious face, and 
 Rufe s mysterious sneers. 
 
 Rufe broke into the liveliest cackle. " Tom, 
 he lowed ter me ez he war tucked up in the 
 trundle-bed, fast asleep, that night when his 
 dad got home from old Mis Price s house, whar 
 he had been ter hear her las words. Tom, he 
 lowed he war dreamin ez his gran dad hed 
 gin him a calf Tom say the calf war spotted 
 red an white an jes ez he war a-leadin it 
 home with him, his dad kem racin inter the 
 house with sech a rumpus ez woke him up, an 
 he never got the calf along no furder than the 
 
136 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 turn in the road. An thar sot his dad in the 
 cheer, declarin fur true ez he hed seen old 
 Mis Price s harnt in the woods, an b lieved 
 she mus be dead afore now. An though 
 thar war a right smart fire on the h a th, he 
 war shiverin an shakin over it, jes the same 
 ez ef he war out at the wood-pile, pickin up 
 chips on a frosty mornin ." 
 
 And Rufe crouched over, shivering in every 
 limb, in equally excellent mimicry of a ghost- 
 seer, or an unwilling chip-picker under stress 
 of weather. 
 
 " My ! " he exclaimed with a fresh burst of 
 laughter; "whenst Tom tole me bout n it I 
 war so tickled I war feared I d fall. I los the 
 use o my tongue. I could n t stop laffin long 
 enough ter tell Tom what I war laffin at. An 
 ez Tom knowed I war snake-bit las June, he 
 went home an tole his mother ez the p ison 
 hed done teched nie in the head, an said he 
 reckoned, ef the truth war knowed, I hed fits 
 ez a constancy. I say Jits ! " 
 
 Once more the bewildered tanner glanced 
 from one to the other. 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 137 
 
 "Why, ye never tole me ez ye hed seen 
 su thin strange in the woods, Andy," he ex 
 claimed, feeling aggrieved, thus balked of a 
 sensation. "An the old woman ain t dead, 
 nohow," he continued reasonably, " but air 
 strengthenin up amazin fast." 
 
 " Waal," put in Rufe, hastening to explain 
 this discrepancy in the spectre, " I hearn you- 
 uns a-sayin that mornin , fore ye set out from 
 the tanyard, ez she war mighty nigh dead an 
 would be gone fore night. An ez he hed tole 
 me he d skeer the wits out n me, I lowed ez 
 I could show him ez his wits warn t ez tough 
 ez mine. Though," added the roguish Rufe, 
 with a grin of enjoyment, " arter I hed dressed 
 up the blackberry bush in mam s apron an* 
 shawl, an sot her bonnet a-top, it tuk ter nod- 
 din and bowin* with the wind, an looked so 
 like folks, ez it gin Me a skeer, an I jes run 
 home ez hard ez I could travel. An Towse, 
 he barked at it ! " 
 
 Andy Byers spoke suddenly. " Waal, Birt 
 holped ye, then." 
 
 " He never ! " cried Rufe, emphatically, un- 
 
138 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 willing to share the credit, or perhaps dis 
 credit, of the enterprise. " Birt dunno nuthin 
 bout it ter this good day." Kufe winked 
 slyly. " Birt would tell mam ez I hed been 
 a-foolin with her shawl an bonnet." 
 
 Andy Byers still maintained a most incon 
 gruous gravity. 
 
 "It warn t Birt s doin , at all?" he said 
 interrogatively, and with a pondering aspect, 
 
 Jubal Perkins broke into a derisive guffaw. 
 "What ails ye, Andy ? " he cried. " Though 
 ye never seen no harnt, ye pear ter be fairly 
 witched by that thar tricked-out blackberry 
 bush." 
 
 Ruf e shrugged up his shoulders, and began to 
 shiver in imaginary terror over a fancied fire. 
 
 " Old Mis Price s -- harnt ! " he 
 wheezed. 
 
 The point of view makes an essential differ 
 ence. Jube Perkins thought Rufe s comical 
 ity most praiseworthy his pipe went out 
 while he laughed. Byers flushed indignantly. 
 
 " Ye aggervatin leetle varmint ! " he cried 
 suddenly, his patience giving way. 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 139 
 
 He seized the crouching mimic by the col 
 lar, and although he did not literally knock 
 him off the wood-pile, as Rufe afterward de 
 clared, he assisted the small boy through the 
 air with a celerity that caused Rufe to wink 
 very fast and catch his breath, when he was 
 deposited, with a shake, on the soft pile of 
 ground bark some yards away. 
 
 Rufe was altogether unhurt, but a trifle sub 
 dued by this sudden aerial excursion. The 
 fun was over for the present. He gathered 
 himself together, and went demurely and sat 
 down on the lowest log of the wood-pile. 
 After a little he produced a papaw from his 
 pocket, and by the manner in which they went 
 to work upon it, his jagged squirrel teeth 
 showed that they were better than they looked. 
 
 Towse had followed his master to the tan- 
 yard, and was lying asleep beside the wood 
 pile, with his muzzle on his forepaws. 
 
 He roused himself suddenly at the sound of 
 munching, and came and sat upright, facing 
 Rufe, and eying the papaw gloatingly. He 
 wagged his tail in a beguiling fashion, and 
 
140 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 now and then turned his head blandishingly 
 askew. 
 
 Of course he would not have relished the 
 papaw, and only begged as a matter of habit 
 or perhaps on principle ; but he was given no 
 opportunity to sample it, for Rufe hardly no 
 ticed him, being absorbed in dubiously watch 
 ing Andy Byers, who was once more at work, 
 scraping the hide with the two-handled knife. 
 
 Jubal Perkins had gone into the house for a 
 coal to re-kindle his pipe, for there is always 
 a smouldering fire in the "smoke-room" for 
 the purpose of drying the hides suspended 
 from the rafters. He came out with it freshly 
 glowing, and sat down on the broad, high pile 
 of wood. 
 
 As the first whiff of smoke wreathed over 
 his head, he said, " What air the differ ter ye, 
 Andy, whether t war bub, hyar, or Birt, ez 
 dressed up the blackberry bush ? ye pear ter 
 make a differ a-twixt em." 
 
 Still Byers was evasive. " Whar *s Birt, 
 ennyhow ? " he demanded irrelevantly. 
 
 " Waal," drawled the tanner, with a certain 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 141 
 
 constraint, u I hed been promisin Birt a day 
 off fur a right smart while, an I tole him ez 
 he mought ez well hev the rest o ter-day. He 
 lowed ez he warn t partic lar bout a day off, 
 now. But I tole him ennyhow ter go along. 
 I seen him a while ago passin through the 
 woods, with his rifle on his shoulder gone 
 huntin , I reckon." 
 
 " Gone huntin ! " ejaculated Eufe in dud 
 geon, joining unceremoniously in the conver 
 sation of his elders. " Now, Birt mought hev 
 let me know! I d hev wanted ter go along 
 too." 
 
 " Mebbe that air the reason he never tole 
 ye, bub," said Perkins dryly. 
 
 For he could appreciate that Rufe s society 
 was not always a boon, although he took a 
 lenient view of the little boy. Any indul 
 gence of Birt was more unusual, and Andy 
 Byers experienced some surprise to hear of 
 the unwonted sylvan recreations of the young 
 drudge. He noticed that the mule was off 
 duty too, grazing among the bushes just be 
 yond the fence, and hobbled so that he could 
 
142 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 not run away. This precaution might have 
 seemed a practical joke on the mule, for the 
 poor old animal was only too glad to stand 
 stock still. 
 
 Rufe continued his exclamatory indigna 
 tion. 
 
 " Jes ter go lopin off inter the woods hun- 
 tin , thout lettin Me know ! An I never gits 
 ter go huiitin nohow! An mam won t let 
 me tech Birt s rifle, thout it air ez empty ez 
 a gourd ! She say she air feared I 11 shoot 
 my head off, an she don t want no boys, thout 
 heads, jouncin round her house shucks ! 
 Which way did Birt take, Mister Perkins ? 
 kase I be goin ter ketch up." 
 
 "He war headed fur that thar salt lick, 
 whenst I las seen him," replied the tanner; 
 " ef ye stir yer stumps right lively, mebbe ye 11 
 overhaul him yit." 
 
 Rufe rose precipitately. Towse, believing 
 his petition for the papaw was about to be re 
 warded, leaped up too, gamboling with a dis 
 play of ecstasy that might have befitted a 
 starving creature, and an elasticity to be ex- 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 143 
 
 pected only of a rubber dog. As he uttered 
 a shrill yelp of delight, he sprang up against 
 Rufe, who, reeling under the shock, dropped 
 the remnant of the papaw. Towse darted 
 upon it, sniffed disdainfully, and returned to 
 his capers around Rufe, evidently declining to 
 believe that all that show of gustatory satisfac 
 tion had been elicited only by the papaw, and 
 that Rufe had nothing else to eat. 
 
 Thus the two took their way out of the tan- 
 yard ; and even after they had disappeared, 
 their progress through the underbrush was 
 marked by an abnormal commotion among the 
 leaves, as the saltatory skeptic of a dog in 
 sisted on more substantial favors than the suc 
 culent papaw. 
 
 The tanner smoked for a time in silence. 
 
 Then, " Birt ain t goin ter be let ter work 
 hyar ag in," he said. 
 
 Byers elevated his shaggy eyebrows in sur 
 prise. 
 
 " Ye see," said the tanner in a confidential 
 undertone, " sence Birt hev stole that thar 
 grant, I kin argufy ez he mought steal su thin 
 
144 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 else, an I ain t ekal ter keepin up a spry look 
 out on things, an bein partic lar bout the 
 count o the hides an sech. I can t feel easy 
 with sech a mischeevious scamp around." 
 
 Byers made no rejoinder, and the tanner, 
 puffing his pipe, vaguely watched the wreaths 
 of smoke rise above his head, and whisk buoy 
 antly about in the air, and finally skurry off 
 into invisibility. A gentle breeze was astir in 
 the woods, and it set the leaves to whispering. 
 The treetoads and the locusts were trolling a 
 chorus. So loudly vibrant, it was ! So clam 
 orously gay! Some subtle intimation they 
 surely had that summer was ephemeral and 
 the season waning, for the burden of their 
 song was, Let us now be merry. The scarlet 
 head of a woodpecker showed brilliantly from 
 the bare dead boughs of a chestnut-oak, which, 
 with its clinging lichens of green and gray, 
 was boldly projected against the azure sky. 
 And there, the filmy moon, most dimly visible 
 in the afternoon sunshine, swung like some 
 lunar hallucination among the cirrus clouds. 
 
 "Ye lows ez I ain t doin right by Birt?" 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 145 
 
 the tanner suggested presently, with more 
 conscience in the matter than one would have 
 given him credit for possessing. 
 
 "I knows ye air doin right," said Byers 
 unexpectedly. 
 
 All at once the woodpecker was solemnly 
 tapping tapping. 
 
 Byers glanced up, as if to discern whence 
 the sudden sound came, and once more bent to 
 his work. 
 
 " Ye b lieves, then, ez he stole that thar 
 grant from Nate Griggs ? " asked Perkins. 
 
 "I be sure he done it," said Byers, un 
 equivocally. 
 
 The tanner took his pipe from his lips. 
 " What ails ye ter say that, Andy ? " he ex 
 claimed excitedly. 
 
 Andy Byers hesitated. He mechanically 
 passed his fingers once or twice across the 
 blunt, curved blade of the two-handled knife. 
 
 "Ye 11 keep the secret?" 
 
 " In the sole o my boot," said the tanner. 
 
 "Waal, I knows ez Birt stole the grant. 
 I hev been powerful changeful, though, in my 
 10 
 
146 DO WN THE RAVINE. 
 
 thoughts bout n it. At fust I war glad when 
 he war suspicioned bout n it, an I war minded 
 to go an inform on him an sech, ter pay him 
 back ; kase I held a grudge ag in him, be- 
 lievin ez he hed dressed out that thar black 
 berry bush ez Mrs. Price s harnt. An then 
 I d remember ez his mother war a widder- 
 woman, an he war nothin but a boy, an 
 boys air bound ter be gamesome an full o 
 jokes wunst in a while, an I d feel like I war 
 bound ter furgive him bout the harnt. An 
 then ag in I got toler ble oneasy fur fear the 
 Law mought hold me sponsible fur knowin 
 bout Birt s crime of stealin the grant an yit 
 not tellin on him. An I d take ter hopin 
 an prayin the boy would confess, so ez I 
 would n t hev ter tell on him. I hev been 
 mightily pestered in my mind lately with sech 
 dilly-dallyin ." 
 
 Again the sudden tapping of the woodpecker 
 filled the pause. 
 
 " Did ye see him steal the grant, Andy ? " 
 asked the tanner, with bated breath. 
 
 " Ez good ez seen him. I seen him slyin 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 147 
 
 round, an I hev fund the place whar he hev 
 hid it." 
 
 And the woodpecker still was solemnly tap 
 ping, high up in the chestnut-oak tree. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 BIRT, meanwhile, was trudging along in the 
 woods, hardly seeing where he went, hardly 
 caring. 
 
 He had not had even a vague premonition 
 when the tanner told him that he might have 
 the rest of the day off. He did not now want 
 the holiday which would once have so rejoiced 
 him, and he said as much. And then the 
 tanner, making the disclosure by degrees, be 
 ing truly sorry to part with the boy, intimated 
 that he need come back no more. 
 
 Birt unharnessed the mule by the sense of 
 touch and the force of habit, for blinding tears 
 intervened between his vision and the rusty 
 old buckles and worn straps of leather. The 
 animal seemed to understand that something 
 was amiss, and now and then turned his head 
 interrogatively. Somehow Birt was glad to 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 149 
 
 feel that he left at least one friend in the tan- 
 yard, albeit the humblest, for he had always 
 treated the beast with kindness, and he was 
 sure the mule would miss him. 
 
 When he reached home he loitered for a 
 time outside the fence, trying to nerve himself 
 to witness his mother s distress. And at last 
 his tears were dried, and he went in and told 
 her the news. 
 
 It was hard for him nowadays to understand 
 that simple mother of his. She did nothing 
 that he .expected. To be sure her cheek paled, 
 her eyes looked anxious for a moment, and 
 her hands trembled so that she carefully put 
 down upon the table a dish which she had 
 been wiping. But she said quite calmly, 
 " Waal, sonny, I dunno but ye hed better take 
 a day off from work, sure enough, an go 
 a-huntin . Thar s yer rifle, an niebbe ye 11 
 git a shot at a deer down yander by the lick. 
 The chill n haint hed no wild meat lately, 
 ceptin squir ls out n Rufe s trap." 
 
 And then he began to cry out bitterly that 
 nobody would give him work, and they would 
 
150 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 all starve ; that the tanner believed he had 
 stolen the grant, and was afraid to have him 
 about the hides. 
 
 " T ain t 110 differ ez long ez t ain t the 
 truth," said his mother philosophically. " We- 
 uns will jes abide by the truth." 
 
 He repeated this phrase over and over as 
 he struggled through the tangled underbrush 
 of the dense forest. 
 
 It was all like some terrible dream; and 
 but for Tennessee, it would be the truth ! How 
 he blessed the little sister that her love for 
 him and his love for her had come between 
 him and crime at that moment of temptation. 
 
 " So powerful peart ! " he muttered with 
 glistening eyes, as he thought of her. 
 
 The grant was gone, to be sure ; but he did 
 not take it. They accused him and falsely ! 
 
 It was something to be free and abroad in 
 the woods. He heard the wind singing in the 
 pines. Their fine, penetrating aroma per 
 vaded the air, and the rusty needles, covering 
 the ground, muffled his tread. Once he paused 
 was that the bleat of a fawn, away down on 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 151 
 
 the mountain s slope? He heard no more, 
 and he walked on, looking about with his old 
 alert interest. He was refreshed, invigora 
 ted, somehow consoled, as he went. O wise 
 mother ! he wondered if she foresaw this when 
 she sent him into the woods. 
 
 He had not before noted how the season 
 was advancing. Here and there, in the midst 
 of the dark green foliage, leaves shone so viv 
 idly yellow that it seemed as if upon them 
 some fascinated sunbeam had expended all its 
 glamours. In a dusky recess he saw the crim 
 son sumach flaring. And the distant blue 
 mountains, and the furthest reaches of the 
 azure sky, and the sombre depths of the 
 wooded valley, and the sheeny splendors of the 
 afternoon sun, and every incident of crag or 
 chasm all appeared through a soft purple 
 haze that possessed the air, and added an ideal 
 embellishment to the scene. Down the ravine 
 the " lick " shone with the lustre of a silver 
 lakelet. He saw the old oak-tree hard by, 
 with the historic scaffold among its thinning 
 leaves, and further along the slope were visi- 
 
152 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 ble vague bobbing figures, which he recognized 
 as the " Griggs gang," seeking upon the moun 
 tain side the gold which he had discovered. 
 
 Suddenly he heard a light crackling in the 
 brush, a faint footfall. It reminded him 
 of the deer-path close at hand. He crouched 
 down noiselessly amongst the low growth and 
 lifted his rifle, his eyes fixed on the point 
 where the path disappeared in the bushes, and 
 where he would first catch a glimpse of the 
 approaching animal. 
 
 He heard the step again. His finger was 
 trembling on the trigger, when down the path 
 leisurely walked an old gentleman attired in 
 black, a hammer in his hand, and a pair of 
 gleaming spectacles poised placidly upon the 
 bridge of an intellectual Roman nose. And 
 this queer game halted in the middle of the 
 deer-path, all unconscious of his deadly danger. 
 
 It was a wonder that the rifle was not dis 
 charged, for the panic-stricken Birt had lost 
 control of his muscles, and his convulsive fin 
 ger was still quivering on the trigger as he 
 trembled from head to foot. He hardly dared 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 153 
 
 to try to move the gun. For a moment he 
 could not speak. He gazed in open-mouthed 
 amazement at the unsuspecting old gentleman, 
 who was also unaware of the far more formi 
 dable open mouth of the rifle. 
 
 " Now, ain t ye lackin fur head-stuffin ? " 
 suddenly yelled out Birt, from his hiding- 
 place. 
 
 The startled old man jumped, with the 
 most abrupt alacrity. In fact, despite his age 
 and the lack of habit, he bounded as acrobat 
 ically from the ground as the expected deer 
 could have done. He was, it is true, a learned 
 man; but science has no specific for sudden 
 fright, and he jumped as ignorantly as if he 
 did not know the difficult name of any of the 
 muscles that so alertly exercised themselves 
 on this occasion. 
 
 Birt rose at last to his feet and looked with 
 a pallid face over the underbrush. "Now, 
 ain t ye lackin fur head-stuffin ," he faltered, 
 " a-steppin along a deer-path ez nat ral ez ef 
 ye war a big fat buck ? I kem mighty nigh 
 shootin ye." 
 
154 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 The old gentleman recovered his equilib 
 rium, mental and physical, with marvelous 
 rapidity. 
 
 " Ah, my young friend," he motioned to 
 Birt to come nearer, "I want to speak to 
 you." 
 
 Birt stared. One might have inferred, from 
 the tone, that the gentleman had expected to 
 meet him here, whereas Birt had just had the 
 best evidence of his senses that the encounter 
 was a great surprise. 
 
 The boy observed his interlocutor more care 
 fully than he had yet been able to do. He 
 remembered all at once Kufe s queer story of 
 meeting, down the ravine, an eccentric old 
 man whom he was disposed to identify as 
 Satan. As the stranger stood there in the 
 deer-path, he looked precisely as Rufe had de 
 scribed him, even to the baffling glitter of his 
 spectacles, his gray whiskers, and the curiously 
 shaped hammer in his hand. 
 
 Birt, although bewildered and still tremu 
 lous from the shock to his nerves, was not so 
 superstitious as Rufe, and he shouldered his 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 155 
 
 gun, and, pushing out from the tangled under 
 brush, joined the old man in the path. 
 
 " I want," said the gentleman, " to hire a 
 boy for a few days weeks, perhaps." 
 
 He smiled with two whole rows of teeth 
 that never grew where they stood. Birt wished 
 he could see the expression of the stranger s 
 eyes, indistinguishable behind the spectacles 
 that glimmered in the light. 
 
 "What do you say to fifty cents a day?" 
 he continued briskly. 
 
 Birt s heart sank suddenly. He had heard 
 that Satan traded in souls by working on the 
 avarice of the victim. The price suggested 
 seemed a great deal to Birt, for in this region 
 there is little cash in circulation, barter serv 
 ing all the ordinary purposes of commerce. 
 
 As he hesitated, the old man eyed him quiz 
 zically. " Afraid of work, eh ? " 
 
 " Naw, sir ! " said Birt, sturdily. 
 
 Ah, if the bark-mill, and the old mule, and 
 the tan-pit, and the wood-pile, and the corn 
 field might testify ! 
 
 " Fifty cents a day eh ? " said the stran 
 ger. 
 
156 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 At the repetition of the sum, it occurred to 
 Birt, growing more familiar with the eccen 
 tricity of his companion, that he ought not in 
 sheer silliness to throw away a chance for em 
 ployment. 
 
 " Kin I ask my mother ? " he said dubi 
 ously. 
 
 "By all means ask your mother," replied 
 the stranger heartily. 
 
 Birt s last fantastic doubt vanished. Oh no ! 
 this was not Satan in disguise. When did the 
 enemy ever counsel a boy to ask his mother ! 
 
 Birt still stared gravely at him. All the de 
 tails of his garb, manner, speech, even the 
 hammer in his hand, were foreign to the boy s 
 experience. 
 
 Presently he ventured a question. " Do you- 
 uns hail from hyar-abouts? " 
 
 The stranger was frank and communicative. 
 He told Birt that he was a professor of Nat 
 ural Science in a college in one of the " valley 
 towns," and that he was sojourning, for his 
 health s sake, at a little watering-place some 
 twelve miles distant on the bench of the moun- 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 157 
 
 tain. Occasionally he made an excursion into 
 the range, which was peculiarly interesting 
 geologically. 
 
 " But what I wish you to do is to dig for 
 bones." 
 
 " Bones ? " faltered Birt. 
 
 " Bones," reiterated the professor solemnly. 
 
 Did his spectacles twinkle ? 
 
 Birt stood silent, vaguely wondering what 
 his mother would think of " bones." 
 
 Presently the professor, seeing that the boy 
 was not likely to ask amusing questions, ex 
 plained. 
 
 He informed Birt that in the neighborhood 
 of salt licks " saline quagmires " he called 
 them were often found the remains of ani 
 mals of an extinct species, which are of great 
 value to science. He gave Birt the extremely 
 long name of these animals, and descanted 
 upon such conditions of their existence as is 
 known, much of which Birt did not understand. 
 Although this fact was very apparent, it did 
 not in the least affect the professor s ardor in 
 the theme. He was in the habit of talking of 
 
158 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 these things to boys who did not understand, 
 and alack ! to boys who did not want to under 
 stand. 
 
 One point, however, he made very clear. 
 With the hope of some such " find," he was 
 anxious to investigate this particular lick, 
 about which indeed he had heard a vague tra 
 dition of a " big bone " discovery, such as is 
 common to similar localities in this region, 
 and for this purpose he proposed to furnish 
 the science and the fifty cents per diem, and 
 earnestly desired that some one else should 
 furnish the muscle. 
 
 He was accustomed to think much more 
 rapidly than the men with whom Birt was as 
 sociated, and his briskness in arranging the 
 matter had an incongruous suggestion of the 
 giddiness of youth. He said that he would 
 go home with Birt to fetch the spade, and 
 while there he could settle the terms with the 
 boy s mother, and then they could get to work. 
 
 He started off at a dapper gait up the deer- 
 path, while Birt, with his rifle on his shoulder, 
 followed. 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 159 
 
 A sudden thought struck Birt. He stopped 
 short. 
 
 " Now / dunno which side o that thar lick 
 Nate Griggs s line runs on," he remarked. 
 
 " Never mind," said the professor, waving 
 away objections with airy efficiency ; " I shall 
 first secure the consent of the owner of the 
 land." 
 
 Birt cogitated for a moment. " Nate Griggs 
 ain t goin ter gin his cornsent ter nobody ter 
 dig enny whar down the ravine, ef it air inside 
 o his lines," he said confidently, " kase I 
 kase he leastwise, kase gold hev been fund 
 hyar lately, an he hev entered the land." 
 
 The professor stopped short in the path. 
 
 " Gold ! " he ejaculated. " Gold ! " 
 
 "Was there a vibration of incredulity in his 
 voice ? 
 
 Birt remembered all at once the specimens 
 which he had picked up that memorable even 
 ing, down the ravine, when he shot the red 
 fox. Here they still were in his pocket. They 
 showed lustrous, metallic, yellow gleams as he 
 placed them carefully in the old man s out- 
 
160 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 stretched hand, telling how he came by them, 
 of his mistaken confidence, the betrayed trust, 
 and ending by pointing at the group of gold- 
 seekers, microscopic in the distance on the op 
 posite slope. 
 
 "I hev hearn tell," he added, " ez Nate 
 air countin on goin pardners with a man in 
 Sparty, who hev got money, to work the gold 
 mine." 
 
 Now and then, as he talked, he glanced up 
 at his companion s face, vaguely expecting to 
 discover his opinion by its expression, but the 
 light still played in a baffling glitter upon his 
 spectacles. 
 
 Birt could only follow when the professor 
 suddenly handed back the specimens with a 
 peremptory " Come come ! We must go 
 for the spade. But when we reach your 
 mother s house I will test this mineral, and 
 you shall see for yourself what you have lost." 
 
 Mrs. Dicey s first impression upon meeting 
 the stranger and learning of his mission was 
 not altogether surprise as Birt had expected. 
 Her chief absorption was a deep thankful- 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 161 
 
 ness that the floors all preserved their freshly 
 scoured appearance. 
 
 " Fur ef Rufe hed been playin round hyar 
 ter-day, same ez common, the rubbish would 
 have been a scandal ter the kentry," she re 
 flected. 
 
 In fact, all was so neat, albeit so poor, that 
 the stranger felt as polite as he looked, while 
 he talked to her about employing Birt in his 
 researches. 
 
 Birt, however, had little disposition to listen 
 to this. He was excited by the prospect of 
 testing the mineral, and he busied himself with 
 great alacrity in preparing for it under the 
 professor s directions. He suffered a qualm, 
 it is true, as he pounded the shining fragments 
 into a coarse powder, and then he drew out 
 with the shovel a great glowing mass of live 
 coals on the hearth. 
 
 The dogs peered eagerly in at the door, hav 
 ing followed the stranger with the liveliest 
 curiosity. Towse, bolder than the rest, entered 
 intrepidly with a nonchalant air and a wag 
 ging tail, for he and Rufe, having failed to 
 11 
 
162 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 find Birt, had just returned home. The small 
 boy paused on the threshold in amazed rec 
 ognition of the old gentleman who had occa 
 sioned him such a fright that day down the 
 ravine. 
 
 The professor gesticulated a great deal as 
 he bent over the fire and gave Birt directions, 
 and, with his waving hands and the glow on 
 his hoary hair and beard, he looked like some 
 fantastic sorcerer. Somehow Rufe was glad to 
 see the familiar countenances of Pete and Joe, 
 and was still more reassured to note that his 
 mother was quietly standing beside the table, 
 as she stirred the batter for bread in a wooden 
 bowl. Tennessee had pressed close to Birt, 
 her chubby hand clutching his collar as he 
 knelt on the hearth. He held above the glow 
 ing coals a long fire shovel, on which the pul 
 verized mineral had been placed, and his eyes 
 were very bright as he earnestly watched it. 
 
 " If it is gold," said the old man, " a mod 
 erate heat will not affect it." 
 
 The shovel was growing hot. The live coals 
 glowed beneath it. The breath of the fire 
 
=r I 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 163 
 
 stirred Tennessee s flaxen hair. And Birt s 
 dilated eyes saw the yellow particles still glis 
 tening unchanged in the centre of the shovel, 
 which was beginning to redden. 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 
 SUDDENLY was the glistening yellow min 
 eral taking fire ? It began to give off sulphur 
 ous fumes. And drifting away with them 
 were all Birt s golden visions and Nate s ill- 
 gotten wealth ending in smoke ! 
 
 The sulphurous odor grew stronger. Even 
 Towse stopped short, and gazed at the shovel 
 with a reprehensive sniff. 
 
 " Ker-shoo ! " he sneezed. 
 
 And commenting thus, he turned abruptly 
 and went hastily out, with a startled look and 
 a downcast tail. 
 
 His sneeze seemed to break the spell of 
 silence that had fallen on the little group. 
 
 " It be mighty nigh bodaciously changed ter 
 cinders ! " exclaimed Birt, staring in amaze at 
 the lustreless contents of the shovel from which 
 every suggestion of golden glimmer had faded. 
 " What do it be, ef tain t gold ? " 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 165 
 
 " Iron pyrites," said the professor. " Fools 
 gold, it is often called." 
 
 He explained to Birt that in certain forma 
 tions, however, gold is associated with iron 
 pyrites, and when the mineral is properly 
 roasted, this process serving to expel the sul 
 phur, the fine particles of gold are found held 
 in the resulting oxide of iron. But the variety 
 of the mineral discovered down the ravine he 
 said was valueless, unless occurring in vast 
 quantities, when it is sometimes utilized in the 
 production of sulphur. 
 
 " I wonder," Birt broke out suddenly, " if 
 the assayer won t find no gold in them samples 
 ez Nate sent him." 
 
 The professor laughed. " The assayer will 
 need the philosopher s stone to find gold in 
 any samples from this locality." 
 
 " Ye knowecl then, all the time, ez this stuff 
 warn t gold?" asked Birt. 
 
 " All the time," rejoined the elder. 
 
 "An Nate hev got the steepest, rockiest 
 spot in the kentry ter pay taxes on," resumed 
 Birt, reflectively. "An he hev shelled out 
 
166 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 a power o money ter the surveyor, an sech, 
 a ready. I reckon he 11 be mightily outed 
 when he finds out ez the min ral ain t gold." 
 
 Birt stopped short in renewed anxiety. 
 
 That missing grant ! Somehow he felt sure 
 that Nate, balked of the great gains he had 
 promised himself, would wreak his disappoint 
 ment wherever he might ; and since the land 
 was of so little value, he would not continue to 
 deny himself his revenge for fear that an in 
 vestigation into the priority of the mineral s 
 discovery might invalidate the entry. Once 
 more Birt was tortured by the terror of arrest 
 he might yet suffer a prosecution from 
 malignity, which had hitherto been withheld 
 from policy. If only the mystery of the lost 
 grant could be solved ! 
 
 The conversation of the elders had returned 
 to the subject of the investigations around the 
 "lick " and the terms for Birt s services. As 
 so much time had been consumed with the py 
 rites, the professor concluded with some vexa 
 tion that they could hardly arrange all the 
 preliminaries and get to work this afternoon. 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 167 
 
 " I dare say we had best begin to-morrow 
 morning," he said at last. 
 
 "Birt can t go a-diggin no-ways, this 
 evenin , put in the officious Rufe, who stood, 
 according to his wont, listening with his mouth 
 and eyes wide open, " kase ez I kem home 
 by the tanyard Jube Perkins hollered ter me 
 ter tell Birt ter come thar right quick. I 
 furgot it till this minit," he added, with a 
 shade of embarrassment that might pass for 
 apology. 
 
 Birt felt a prophetic thrill. This summons 
 promised developments of importance. Only 
 a few hours ago he was discharged under sus 
 picion of dishonesty ; why this sudden recall ? 
 He did not know whether hope or fear was 
 paramount. He trembled with eager expec 
 tancy. He seized his hat, and strode out of 
 the house without waiting to hear more of the 
 professor s plans or the details of the wages. 
 
 He had reached the fence before he discov 
 ered Tennessee close at his heels. He cast his 
 troubled eyes down upon her, and met her 
 pleading, upturned gaze. He was about to 
 
168 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 charge her to go back. But then he remem 
 bered how she had followed him with blessings 
 how mercy had kept pace with her steps. 
 He would not deny her the simple boon she 
 craved, and if she were troublesome and in his 
 way, surely he might be patient with her, since 
 she loved him so ! He lifted her over the 
 fence, and then started briskly down the path, 
 the sturdy, light-footed little mountain girl 
 delightedly trudging along in the rear. 
 
 When he entered the tanyard no one was 
 there except Jube Perkins and Andy Byers : 
 the tanner, lounging as usual on the wood-pile, 
 and the workman, with scarcely less the aspect 
 of idleness, dawdlingly scraping a hide on the 
 wooden horse. Birt discerned a portent in 
 the unwonted solemnity of their faces, and his 
 heart sank. 
 
 " Waal, Birt, we-uns hev been a-waitin fur 
 ye," said the tanner in a subdued, grave tone 
 that somehow reminded Birt of the bated 
 voices in a house of death. " Set down hyar 
 on the wood-pile, fur Andy an me hev got a 
 word ter say ter ye." 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 169 
 
 Birt s dilated black eyes turned in dumb ap 
 peal from one to the other as he sank down on 
 the wood-pile. His suspense gnawed him like 
 an actual grief while Jubal Perkins slowly 
 shifted his position and looked vaguely at 
 Andy Byers for a suggestion, being uncertain 
 how to begin. 
 
 " Waal, Birt," he drawled at last, " ez yer 
 dad is dead an ye hev got nobody ter see 
 arter ye an advise ye, Andy an me, we-uns 
 agreed ez how we d talk ter ye right plain, an 
 try ter git ye ter jedge o this hyar matter like 
 we-uns do. Andy an me know more bout 
 the law, an bout folks too, than ye does. 
 These hyar Griggs folks hev always been mis 
 doubted ez a fractious an contrary-wise fam- 
 bly. Ef enny Griggs ain t aggervatin an 
 captious, it air through bein plumb terrified 
 by the t others. They air powerful hard folks 
 an they 11 land ye in the State Prison yet, 
 I m thinkin . I wonder they hain t started at 
 ye a ready. But thar s no countin on em, 
 ceptin that they 11 do all they kin that air 
 ha sh an grindm ." 
 
170 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 " That air a true word, Birt," said Andy 
 Byers, speaking to the boy for the first time in 
 many days. " Ef they hev thar reason fur it, 
 they mought hold thar hand fur a time, but 
 fust or las they 11 hev all out n ye ez the law 
 will allow em." 
 
 Birt listened in desperation. 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 luck 
 less victim for every cent, every mill, that the 
 discovery of the " fools gold " had cost him. 
 
 " They 11 be takin ye away from the moun 
 tings ter jail ye an try ye, an mebbe ye 11 go 
 ter the pen tiary arter that. An how will yer 
 mother, an brothers, an sister, git thar vittles, 
 an firewood, an corn-crap an clothes, an sech 
 Etife bein the oldest child, arter you-uns ? " 
 demanded the tanner. "An even when ye 
 git back I hate ter tell ye this word no 
 body will want ye round. They 11 be feared 
 ye d be forever pickin an stealin ." 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 171 
 
 " But we-uns will stand up fur ye, bein ez 
 ye air the widder s son," said Byers eagerly. 
 " We-uns will gin the Griggs tribe ter onder- 
 stand that." 
 
 " An mebbe the Griggses won t want ter do 
 nuthiii , ef they hain t got no furder cause fur 
 holdin a grudge," put in the tanner. 
 
 " What be ye a-layin off fur me ter do?" 
 asked Birt wonderingly. 
 
 " Ter gin Nate s grant back ter him," they 
 both replied in a breath. 
 
 " I hev not got it ! " cried poor Birt tumul- 
 tuously. " I never stole it ! I dunno whar it 
 be!" 
 
 The tanner s expression changed from pater 
 nal 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 des 
 perately. 
 
 "/know whar it be," said Byers. 
 
 Birt gazed at him astounded. 
 
 " Whar ? " he cried eagerly. 
 
 " Whar ye hid it," returned Byers coolly. 
 
172 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 Birt s lips moved with difficulty as he husk 
 ily ejaculated " I never hid it I never ! " 
 
 " Ye need n t deny it. I ez good ez seen ye 
 hide it." 
 
 Birt looked dazed for a moment. Then 
 the blood rushed to his face and as suddenly 
 receded, leaving it pale and rigid. He was 
 cold and trembling. He could not speak. 
 
 The tanner scrutinized him narrowly. Then 
 he said, " Tell him bout it, Andy. Tell him 
 jes ez ye tole me. An mebbe he 11 hev sense 
 enough ter gin it up when he sees he air fairly 
 caught." 
 
 " Waal," said Byers, leaning back against 
 the wall of the smoke-house, and holding the 
 knife idly poised in his hand, " I kem down 
 ter the tanyard betimes that mornin arter the 
 storm. Both ye an Birt war late. I noticed 
 Nate Griggs s coat haiigin thar in the shed, 
 with a paper stickin out n the pocket, ez I 
 started inter the smoke-house ter tend ter the 
 fire. I reckon I mus hev made consider ble 
 racket in thar, kase I never hearn nuthin till 
 I sot down afore the fire on a log o wood, an 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 173 
 
 lit my pipe. All of a suddenty thar kem a 
 step outside, toler ble light on the tan. I jes 
 lowed t war ye or Birt. But I happened ter 
 look up, an thar I see a couple o big black 
 eyes peepin through that thar crack in the 
 wall." 
 
 He turned and pointed out a crevice where 
 the " daubin " had fallen from the " chinkin " 
 between the logs. 
 
 " Ye can see," he resumed, " ez this hyar 
 crack air jes the height o Birt. Waal, them 
 eyes lookin in so onexpected did n t sturb me 
 none. I hev knowed the Dicey eye fur thirty 
 year, an thar ain t none like em nowhar round 
 the mountings. But I lowed t war toler ble 
 sassy in Birt ter stand thar peerin at me 
 through the chinkin . I never let on, though, 
 ez I viewed him. An then, them eyes jes set 
 up sech a outdacious winkin an wallin , an 
 squinchin , ez I knowed he war makin faces 
 at me. So I jes riz up an the eyes slipped 
 away from thar in a hurry. I war aimin ter 
 larrup Birt fur his sass, but I stopped ter 
 hang up a skin ez I hed knocked down. It 
 
174 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 never tuk me long, much, but when I went out, 
 thar war n t nobody ter be seen in the tan- 
 yard." 
 
 He paused to place one foot upon the wooden 
 horse, and he leaned forward with a reflective 
 expression, his elbow on his knee, and his hand 
 holding his bearded chin. 
 
 The afternoon was waning. The scarlet sun 
 in magnified splendor was ablaze low down in 
 the saffron west. The world seemed languor 
 ously afloat in the deep, serene flood of light. 
 Shadows were lengthening slowly. The clangor 
 of a cow-bell vibrated in the distance. 
 
 The drone of Andy Byers s voice overbore 
 it as he recommenced. 
 
 " Waal, I was sorter conflusticated, an I 
 looked round powerful sharp ter see whar 
 Birt hed disappeared to. I happened ter cut 
 my eye round at that thar pit ez he hed finished 
 layin the tan in, an kivered with boards, an 
 weighted with rocks that day ez ye an me hed 
 ter go an attend on old Mrs. Price. Ye know 
 we counted ez that thar pit would n t be opened 
 ag in fur a right smart time ? " 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 175 
 
 The tanner nodded assent. 
 
 " Waal, I noticed ez the aidge o one o them 
 boards war sot sorter catawampus, an I lowed 
 ez t war the wind ez hed sturbed it. Ez I 
 stooped down ter move it back in its place, I 
 seen su thin white under it. So I lifted the 
 board, an thar I see, lyin on the tan a-top o 
 the pit, a stiff white paper. I looked round 
 toward the shed, an thar hung the coat yit 
 with nuthin in the pocket. I did n t know 
 edzactly what ter make of it, an I jes shunted 
 the plank back over the paper in the pit like 
 I fund it, an waited ter see what mought hap 
 pen. An all the time ez that thar racket war 
 goin on bout n the grant, I knowed powerful 
 well whar t war, an who stole it." 
 
 Birt looked from one to the other of the two 
 men. Both evidently believed every syllable 
 of this story. It was so natural, so credible, 
 that he had a curious sense of inclining toward 
 it, too. Had he indeed, in some aberration, 
 taken the grant ? Was it some tricksy spirit 
 in his likeness that had peered through the 
 chinking at Andy Byers ? 
 
176 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 He could find no words to contend further. 
 He sat silent, numb, dumfounded. 
 
 " Birt," said the tanner coaxingly, " thar 
 ain t no use in denyin it enny mo . Let s go 
 an git that grant, an take it ter Nate an tell 
 the truth." 
 
 The words roused Birt. He clutched at the 
 idea of getting possession of the paper that had 
 so mysteriously disappeared and baffled and 
 eluded him. He could at least return it. And 
 even if this should fail to secure him lenient 
 treatment, he would feel that he had done 
 right. He rose suddenly in feverish anxiety. 
 
 Andy Byers and Perkins, exchanging a wink 
 of congratulation, followed him to the pit. 
 
 " It air under this hyar board," said Byers, 
 moving one of the heavy stones, and lifting a 
 broad plank. 
 
 Perkins pressed forward with eager curios 
 ity, never having seen this famous grant. 
 
 The ground bark on the surface was pretty 
 dry, the layer being ten or fifteen inches thick, 
 and the tanning infusion had not yet risen 
 through it. 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 177 
 
 Byers stared with a frown at the tan, and 
 lifted another board. Nothing appeared be 
 neath it on the smooth surface of the bark. 
 
 In sudden alarm they took away the boards, 
 one after another, till all were removed, and 
 the whole surface of the pit was exposed. 
 
 Then they looked at each other, bewildered. 
 For once more the grant was gone. 
 
 12 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 JUBAL PERKINS broke the silence. 
 
 " Andy Byers," he exclaimed wrathfully, 
 " what sort n tale is this ez ye air tryin ter 
 fool me with?" 
 
 Byers, perturbed and indignant, was in 
 stantly ready to accuse Birt. 
 
 "Ye hev been hyar an got the grant an 
 sneaked it off agin, hev ye ! " he cried, scowl 
 ing at the boy. 
 
 Then he turned to the tanner. " I hope I 
 may drap dead, Jube," he said earnestly, " ef 
 that grant war n t right hyar " he pointed 
 at the spot " las night whenst I lef the 
 tanyard. .1 always looked late every evenin 
 ter be sure it hed n t been teched, thinkin 
 I d make up my mind in the night whether 
 I d tell on Birt, or no. But I never could 
 git plumb sati fied what to do." 
 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 179 
 
 His tone carried conviction. The tanner 
 looked at Birt with disappointment in every 
 line of his face. There was severity, too, in 
 his expression. He was beginning to admit 
 the fitness of harsh punishment in this case. 
 
 " Ye don t wuth all this gabblin an jawin 
 over ye, ye miser ble leetle critter," he said. 
 "An I ain t goin ter waste another breath 
 on ye." 
 
 Birt stood vacantly staring at the tan. All 
 the energy of the truth was nullified by the 
 futility of protestation. 
 
 The two men exchanged a glance of vague 
 comment upon his silence, and then they too 
 looked idly down at the pit. 
 
 Tennessee abruptly caught Birt s listless 
 hand as it hung at his side, for Towse had sud 
 denly entered the tanyard, and prancing up to 
 her in joyous recognition, was trying to lick 
 her face. 
 
 "G way, Towse," she drawled gutturally. 
 She struck vaguely at him with her chubby 
 little fist, which he waggishly took between his 
 teeth in a gingerly gentle grip. 
 
180 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 " Stand back thar, Tennessee," Birt mur 
 mured mechanically. 
 
 As usual, Towse was the precursor of Rufe, 
 who presently dawdled out from the under 
 brush. He quickened his steps upon observing 
 the intent attitude of the party, and as he came 
 up he demanded vivaciously, " What ails 
 that thar pit o yourn, Mister Perkins? 
 thought ye said ? t warn t goin ter be opened 
 ag in fore-shortly." 
 
 For a moment the tanner made no reply. 
 Then he drawled absently, " Nuthin ails the 
 pit, Rufe nuthin ." 
 
 Rufe sat down on the edge of it, and gazed 
 speculatively at it. Presently he began anew, 
 unabashed by the silence of the grave and con 
 templative group. 
 
 " This hyar tan hev got sorter moist a-top 
 now ; I wonder ef that thar grant o Nate s got 
 spiled ennywise with the damp." 
 
 Birt winced. It had been a certain mitiga 
 tion of his trouble that, thanks to his mother s 
 caution, the children at home knew nothing of 
 the disgrace that had fallen upon him, and 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 181 
 
 that there, at least, the atmosphere was un- 
 taiiited with suspicion. 
 
 The next moment he was impressed by the 
 singularity of Rufe s mention of the missing 
 grant and its place of concealment. 
 
 " Look-a-hyar, Rufe," he exclaimed, ex 
 citedly ; " how d ye know ennything bout 
 Nate s grant an whar t war hid?" 
 
 Rufe glanced up scornfully, insulted in some 
 occult manner by the question. 
 
 " How did I know, Birt Dicey ? How d ye 
 know yerse f?" he retorted. "I knows a 
 heap, ginerally." 
 
 Perkins, catching the drift of Birt s inten 
 tion, came to the rescue. 
 
 " Say, bub, how d ye know the grant war 
 ever put hyar ? " 
 
 "Kase," responded Rufe, more amicably, 
 " I seen it put hyar right yander." 
 
 He indicated the spot where the paper lay, 
 according to Byers, when it was discovered. 
 
 Birt could hardly breathe. His anxieties, 
 his hopes, his fears, seemed a pursuing pack 
 before which he was almost spent. He panted 
 
182 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 like a hunted creature. Tennessee was swing 
 ing herself to and fro, holding by his hand. 
 Sometimes she caught at Towse s unlovely ear, 
 as he sat close by with his tongue lolled out 
 and an attentive air, as if he were assisting at 
 the discussion. 
 
 "Who put it thar, bub?" demanded Per 
 kins. 
 
 It would not have surprised Birt, so perverse 
 had been the course of events, if Rufe had 
 accused him on the spot. 
 
 " Pig-wigs Griggs," replied Rufe, unex 
 pectedly. 
 
 A glance of intelligence passed between the 
 men. 
 
 " Tell bout it, Rufe," said the tanner, sup 
 pressing all appearance of excitement. 
 
 "Ye ain t goin ter do nuthin ter Pig- wigs 
 fur foolin with yer pit, ef I tell ye ? " asked 
 Rufe, quickly. 
 
 " Naw, bub, naw. "Which Griggs do ye call 
 Pig-wigs? " 
 
 " Why Pig-wigs" Rufe reiterated obvi 
 ously. 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 183 
 
 Then he explained. " He air Nate s nevy. 
 He air Nate s oldest brother s biggest boy, 
 though he ain t sizable much. He air bout 
 haffen ez big ez me ef that," he added re 
 flectively, thinking that even thus divided he 
 had represented Pig- wigs as more massive than 
 the facts justified. 
 
 " Ye see," he continued, " one day when his 
 uncle Tim war over hyar ter the tanyard, I gin 
 him one o my game deedies ; an ez soon ez he 
 got home he showed em all that thar deedie 
 powerful, spryest poultry ye ever see ! " 
 
 Rufe smiled ecstatically as only a chicken 
 fancier can. 
 
 " An Pig-wigs war plumb <#e-stracted fur a 
 deedie too. An he run all the way over hyar 
 ter git me ter gin him one. But the deedies 
 hed all gone ter bed, an the old hen war hov- 
 erin of em, an I did n t want ter sturb em," 
 said Rufe considerately. " So I tole Pig-wigs 
 ter meet me at the tanyard early, an I d fetch 
 him one. An ez his granny war goin visitin 
 her merried daughter, she let him ride behind 
 her on thar sorrel mare ez fur ez the tanyard. 
 
184 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 So he got hyar fore I did. An I kem an 
 gin him the deedie." 
 
 Rufe paused abruptly, as if, having narrated 
 this important transaction, he had exhausted 
 the interest of the subject. 
 
 Byers was about to speak, but the tanner 
 with a gesture repressed him. 
 
 " Ye hain t tole bout the pit an the grant 
 yit, bubby," he reminded the small boy. 
 
 Byers s display of impatience was not lost 
 upon Rufe, and it added to the general acri 
 mony of their relations. 
 
 " Waal," the small boy began alertly, " we- 
 uns hed the deedie behind the smoke-house 
 thar, an I seen him " Rufe pointed at By 
 ers with disfavor " a-comin powerful slow 
 inter the tanyard, an I whispered ter Pig-wigs 
 Griggs ter be quiet, an not let him know ez 
 we-uns war thar, kase he war always a- j a win 
 at me, thout the tanner war by ter keep him 
 ofPn me. So we-uns bided thar till he went 
 inter the smoke-house. An then ez we-uns 
 kem by the shed, Pig- wigs seen his uncle Nate s 
 coat hangin on a peg thar, kase that thar 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 185 
 
 triflin Tim lied furgot, an lef it thar when he 
 went ter see the deedies. An Pig-wigs Griggs, 
 he lowed he kiiowed the coat war his uncle 
 Nate s by the favior of it, an he reckoned the 
 paper stickin out n the pocket war the grant he 
 hed hearn Nate talkin bout. An I whispered 
 ter him ez he hed better ondertake ter tote it 
 home ter Nate. An Pig-wigs said he could n t 
 tote the coat, bein so lumbered up with the 
 deedie. But he would tote the grant in one 
 hand an the deedie in t other. He could n t 
 put the deedie in one o his pockets, kase his 
 mother sews em all up, bein ez he would 
 kerry sech a passel o heavy truck in em, 
 rocks an sech, reg lar bowlders," added Rufe, 
 with a casual remembrance of the museum in 
 his own pockets. "So Pig- wigs s mother sewed 
 em all up, kase she said they war tore out all 
 the time, an she seen no sense in a boy hevin 
 a lot o slits in his clothes ter let in the air 
 slanchwise on him. An Pig-wigs lowed he d 
 tote the grant ef I would git it fur him. An 
 I did." 
 
 " How did you-uns reach up ter that thar 
 
186 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 peg?" demanded Byers, pointing to the peg 
 on which the coat had hung, far beyond Rufe s 
 reach. 
 
 "Clumb up on the wooden horse," said 
 Rufe promptly. " I peeked through the chin- 
 kin an seen ye thar a-smokin yer pipe over 
 the fire." 
 
 Rufe winked audaciously, suddenly convin 
 cing Byers as to the possessor of the big black 
 eyes, which he had recognized as characteristic 
 of the Dicey family, when they had peered 
 through the chinking. 
 
 " Waal, how did the grant git inter the pit, 
 Rufe, an what hev become of it ? " asked By 
 ers, overlooking these personalities, for he felt 
 a certain anxiety in the matter, being the last 
 person known to have seen the grant, which, 
 by reason of his delay and indecision, had again 
 been spirited away. 
 
 " Pig-wigs put it thar, I tell ye," reiterated 
 Rufe. " Ye see, I hed got outside o the gate, 
 an Pig-wigs war a good ways behind, walkin 
 toler ble slow, bein ez he hed ter kerry the 
 grant in one hand an the deedie in t other. 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 187 
 
 An thar I see a-cropin along on the ground 
 a young rabbit reg lar baby rabbit. An I 
 motioned ter Pig-wigs ter come quick I bed 
 fund suthin . An ez Pig-wigs could n t put 
 the deedie down, he laid the grant on top o 
 the boards ez kivered the pit. But the wind 
 war brief, an kern mighty nigh bio win that 
 grant away. So Pig-wigs jes stuck it down 
 twixt two planks, an kem ter holp me ketch 
 the rabbit. But Pig-wigs warn t no count ter 
 holp. An the rabbit got away. An whilst 
 Pig-wigs war foolin round, he drapped his 
 deedie, an stepped on it tromped the life 
 out n it." Rufe s expression was of funereal 
 gravity. " An then he follered me every 
 foot o the way home, beggin an beggin me 
 ter gin him another. But I would n t. I 
 won t gin no more o my deedies ter be tromped 
 on, all round the mounting." 
 
 Rufe evidently felt that the line must be 
 drawn somewhere. 
 
 " An what hev gone with that thar grant ? 
 Twar hyar yestiddy." 
 
 " I dunno," responded Rufe, carelessly. 
 
188 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 "Mebbe Pig-wigs reminded hisself bout n it 
 arter awhile, an kem an got it." 
 
 This proved to be the case. For Andy By- 
 ers concerned himself enough in the matter to 
 ride the old mule over to Nate s home, to push 
 the inquiries. Nate was just emerging from 
 the door. The claybank mare, saddled and 
 bridled, stood in front of the cabin. He was 
 evidently about to mount. 
 
 " Look-a-hyar, ye scamp ! " Byers saluted 
 him gruffly, " why n t ye let we-uns know ez 
 ye hed got back that thar grant o yourn, ez 
 hev sot the whole mounting catawampus? 
 Pig-wigs hearn ye talkin bout it at las , and 
 tole ye ez he hed it, I s pose ? " 
 
 Nate affected to examine the saddle-girth. 
 He looked furtively over the mare s shoulder 
 at Andy Byers. He could not guess how 
 much of the facts had been developed. In 
 sheer perversity he was tempted to deny that 
 he had the grant. But Byers was a heavy man 
 of scant patience, and he wore a surly air that 
 boded ill to a trifler. 
 
 Nate nodded admission. 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 189 
 
 " Pig-wigs fetched it home, eh ? " demanded 
 Byers, leaning downward. 
 
 Once more Nate lifted his long, thin ques 
 tioning face. His craft had no encourage 
 ment. 
 
 " Ef ye be minded to call him 4 Pig-wigs 
 his right name air Benjymen t war him ez 
 fetched it home." 
 
 " Now ye air a mighty cantankerous, quar l- 
 some, aggervatin critter ! " Byers broke out 
 irritably. "Ain t ye shamed o this hyar 
 hurrah ye hev kicked up fur nuthin ? accusin 
 o Birt wrongful, an sech ? " 
 
 "Naw; I ain t shamed o nuthin !" said 
 Nate hardily, springing into the saddle. " I m 
 a-ridin ter the Settlemint ter git word from 
 the assayer bout n the gold ez I hev fund. 
 An when I rides back I 11 be wuth more n 
 enny man in the mountings or Sparty either ! " 
 
 And he gave the mare the whip, and left 
 Andy Byers, with his mouth full of rebukes, 
 sitting motionless on the dozing old mule. 
 
 The mare came back from the Settlement 
 late that night under lash and spur, at a speed 
 
190 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 she had never before made. Day was hardly 
 astir when Nate Griggs, wild-eyed and hag 
 gard, appeared at the tanyard in search of Birt. 
 He was loud with reproaches, for the assayer 
 had pronounced the "gold" only worthless 
 iron pyrites. He had received, too, a jeering 
 letter from his proposed partner in Sparta, who 
 had found sport in playing on his consequen 
 tial ignorance and fancied sharpness. And 
 now Nate declared that Birt, also, had known 
 that the mineral was valueless, and had from 
 the first befooled him. In some way he 
 would compel Birt to refund all the money 
 that had been expended. How piteous was 
 Nate as he stood and checked off, on his trem 
 bling fingers, the surveyor s fee, the entry- 
 taker s fee, the register s fee, the secretary of 
 State s fee, the assayer s fee Oh, ruin, ruin ! 
 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 110 emoluments. Where was Birt? 
 He would hold Birt to account. 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 191 
 
 Andy Byers, listening, thought how well it 
 was for Birt that Nate no longer had the loss 
 of the grant as a grievance. 
 
 Perkins mysteriously beckoned Nate aside. 
 
 "Nate," he said in a low voice, "Birt air 
 powerful mad bout that thar accusin him o 
 stealin the grant, when t war some o yer own 
 folks, Pigwigs, ez hed it all the time. I seen 
 him goin long towards yer house a leetle 
 while ago. I reckon he air lookin fur you. 
 He hed that big cowhide, ez I gin him t other 
 day, in one hand. Ye jes take the road home, 
 an ye 11 ketch up with him sure." 
 
 Nate s wits were in disastrous eclipse. 
 Could he deduce nothing from the tanner s 
 grin ? He spent the day at the Settlement 
 without ostensible reason, and only at nightfall 
 did he return home, and by a devious route, 
 very different from that indicated by Jubal 
 Perkins. 
 
 Inquiry developed the fact that the boun 
 daries of Nate s land did not include the salt 
 lick, and his talents as an obstructer were not 
 called into play. The professor was free to 
 
192 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 dig as he chose for the antique bones he 
 sought, and many a long day did he and Birt 
 spend in this sequestered spot, with the great 
 crags towering above and the darkling vistas 
 of the ravine on either hand. There was a 
 long stretch of sunny weather, and somehow 
 that shifting purple haze accented all its lan 
 guorous lustres. It seemed a vague sort of 
 poetry a- loose in the air, and color had license. 
 The law which decreed that a leaf should be 
 green was a dead letter. How gallantly red 
 and yellow they flared ; and others, how ten 
 derly pink, and gray, and purplish of hue! 
 What poly-tinted fancies underfoot in the 
 moss ! Strange visitants came from the north. 
 Flocks of birds, southward bound, skimmed 
 these alien skies. Sometimes they alighted on 
 the tree-tops or along the banks of the torrent, 
 chattering in great excitement, commenting 
 mightily on the country. 
 
 Birt had never been so light-hearted as dur 
 ing these days. The cessation of anxiety was 
 itself a sort of happiness. The long, hard 
 ordeal to which the truth had subjected him 
 had ended triumphantly. 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 193 
 
 " Mighty onexpected things happen in this 
 worl ," he said, reflectively. " It pears power 
 ful cur ous to me, arter all ez hev come an 
 gone, ez / ain t no loser by that thar gold 
 mine down the ravine." 
 
 He himself was surprised that he did not 
 rejoice in Nate s mortification and defeat. But 
 somehow he had struck a moral equilibrium ; 
 in mastering his anger and thirst for revenge, 
 he had gained a stronger control of all the 
 more unworthy impulses of his nature. 
 
 Meantime there was woe at the tanyard. 
 Jube Perkins had been anxious to have Birt 
 resume his old place on the old terms. The 
 professor, however, would not release the boy 
 from his engagement. It seemed that this 
 man of science could deduce subtle distinctions 
 of character in the mere wielding of a spade. 
 He had never seen, he said, any one dig so 
 conscientiously and so intelligently as Birt. 
 The tanner suddenly found that conscience 
 might prove a factor even in so simple a mat 
 ter as driving the old mule around the bark- 
 mill. The boy who had taken Birt s place was 
 
 13 
 
194 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 a sullen, intractable fellow, and brutal. When 
 he yelled and swore and plied the lash, the old 
 mule would occasionally back his ears. The 
 climax came one day when the rash boy kicked 
 the animal. Now this reminded the mild-man 
 nered old mule of his own youthful prowess 
 as a kicker. He revived his reputation. He 
 seemed to stand on his fore-legs and his muz 
 zle, while his hind-legs played havoc behind 
 him. The terrified boy dared not come near 
 him. The bark-mill itself was endangered. 
 Jube Perkins had not done so much work for 
 a twelvemonth as in his efforts to keep the 
 boy, the mule, and the bark-mill going to 
 gether. 
 
 There were no " finds " down by the lick to 
 rejoice the professor, and he went away at last 
 boneless, except in so far as nature had pro 
 vided him. He left Birt amply rewarded for 
 his labor. So independent did Mrs. Dicey 
 feel with this sum of money in reserve, that 
 she would not agree that Birt should work on 
 the old terms with the tanner. Birt was dis 
 mayed by this temerity. Once more, however, 
 
DOWN THE RAVINE. 195 
 
 he recognized her acumen, for Jubal Perkins, 
 although he left the house in a huff, came back 
 again and promised good wages. Ignorant 
 and simple as she was, her keen instinct for 
 her son s best interest, his true welfare, en 
 dowed her words with wisdom. Thenceforth 
 he esteemed no friend, no ally, equal to his 
 mother. 
 
 It delighted him to witness her triumph in 
 the proof of his innocence, and indeed she did 
 not in this matter bear herself with meekness. 
 It made him feel so prosperous to note her 
 relapse into her old caustic habit of speech. 
 Ah, if he were hurt or sore beset, every word 
 would be tenderness. 
 
 Birt shortly compassed a much desired ob 
 ject. The mule s revival of his ancient glories 
 as a " turrible kicker " had injured his market 
 value, and Birt s earnings enabled him to pur 
 chase the animal at a low price. The mule 
 lived to a great age, always with his master as 
 " mild-mannered " as a lamb. 
 
 For some time Birt saw nothing of Nate, but 
 one day the quondam friends met face to face 
 
196 DOWN THE RAVINE. 
 
 on a narrow, precipitous path on the mountain 
 side. Abject fear was expressed in Nate s 
 sharp features, for escape was impossible. 
 
 There was no need of either fear or flight. 
 
 " How air ye, I on Pyrite ! " cried Birt 
 cheerfully. 
 
 The martyr s countenance changed. 
 
 " Ye never done me right bout that thar 
 mine, Birt Dicey," Nate said reproachfully. 
 " Ye inus hev knowed from the fust ez them 
 thar rocks war good fur nuthin ." 
 
 " Ye air the deceivinest sandy-headed Pyrite 
 that ever war on the top o this mounting, 
 an ye knows it," Birt retorted in high good 
 humor ; " an ef it war wuth my while I d gin 
 ye a old-fashion larrupin jes ter pay ye fur 
 the trick ez ye played on me. But I ain t 
 keerin fur that, now. Stan back thar, Ten 
 nessee ! " 
 
 Since then, Tennessee, always preserving 
 the influence she wielded that memorable night, 
 has grown to be a woman never pretty, but, 
 as her brother still stoutly avers, " powerful 
 peart." 
 
Many books belong to sunshine and should be read out-of-doors. 
 
 WlLLMOTT. 
 
 OUT-DOOR BOOKS 
 
 Selected from the Publications of 
 
 Houghton, Mifflin and Company, 
 
 4 Park St., Boston ; 11 East 17th St., New York. 
 
 A "Week on the Concord and Merrimack 
 
 Rivers. By HENRY D. THOREAU. 12mo, gilt top, $1.50. 
 
 Birds and Poets, with Other Papers. By JOHN 
 BURROUGHS. 16mo, $1.50. 
 
 CONTENTS : Birds and Poets ; April ; Touches of Nature ; 
 A Bird Medley ; Spring Poems ; Our Rural Divinity ; Emer 
 son ; The Flight of the Eagle (Walt Whitman) ; Before Gen 
 ius ; Before Beauty. 
 
 Mr. Burroughs, as a careful observer of nature, and one of 
 the most fascinating descriptive writers, is an author whose 
 reputation will constantly increase ; for what he does is not 
 only an addition to our information, but to the good literature 
 that we put on the shelf with Thoreau and White of Selborne. 
 
 Hartford Courant. 
 
 Cape Cod. By HENRY D. THOREAU. 12mo, gilt 
 
 top, $1.50. 
 
 CONTENTS : The Shipwreck ; Stage-Coach Views ; The 
 Plains of Nauset ; The Beach ; The Wellfleet Oysterman ; 
 The Beach again ; Across the Cape ; The Highland Light ; 
 The Sea and the Desert ; Provincetown. 
 
 Country By-Ways. By SARAH ORNE JEWETT. 
 
 18mo, $1.25. 
 
 In free and flowing lines Miss Jewett has drawn exquisite 
 pictures of river and road and woodland, that fascinate by 
 their happiness of descriptive detail, aiid by the kinship to hu 
 manity which the author finds in the flowers and trees and 
 fields. Her treatment of the individuality and life of nature 
 is masterly, and the skill with which she projects her figures 
 on the canvas of her imagination is effective and suggestive. 
 
 Boston Transcrijtt. 
 
Drift-Weed. Poems. By CELIA THAXTER. Small 
 
 4to, full gilt, $1.50. 
 
 None of the poets of to-day have made so deep and sympa 
 thetic a study of the shifting aspects of the sea as has Mrs. 
 Thaxter, and none of them have interpreted its meanings and 
 analogies with half her grace and subtlety. Boston Journal. 
 
 Early Spring in Massachusetts. Selections 
 from the Journals of HENRY D. THOREAU. 12mo, gilt top, 
 $1.50. 
 
 Excursions in Field and Forest. By HENRY 
 
 D. THOREATJ. 12mo, gilt top, $1.50. 
 
 CONTENTS : Biographical Sketch, by R. W. Emerson ; Nat 
 ural History of Massachusetts ; A Walk to Wachusett ; The 
 Landlord ; A Winter Walk ; The Succession of Forest Trees ; 
 Walking ; Autumnal Tints ; Wild Apples ; Night and Moon 
 light. 
 
 Fresh Fields. By JOHN BURROUGHS. 16mo, $1.50. 
 
 CONTENTS . Nature in England ; English Woods A Con 
 trast ; In Carlyle s Country ; A Hunt for the Nightingale ; 
 English and American Song Birds ; Impressions of some Eng 
 lish Birds ; In Wordsworth s Country ; A Glimpse of English 
 Wildflowers; British Fertility; A Sunday in Cheyne Row; 
 At Sea. 
 
 In the Wilderness. Adirondack Essays. By 
 CHARLES DUDLEY WARNER. New edition, enlarged. "Lit 
 tle Classic " style. 18mo, 75 cents. School Edition, 40 cents. 
 A most charming book. Portland Press. 
 
 Locusts and Wild Honey. By JOHN BUR 
 ROUGHS. 16mo, $1.50. 
 CONTENTS : The Pastoral Bees ; Sharp Eyes ; Is it going to 
 
 rain ? Speckled Trout ; Birds and Birds ; A Bed of Boughs ; 
 
 Birds -Nesting ; The Halcyon in Canada. 
 
 My Garden Acquaintance and a Moosehead 
 Journal. By JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. Illustrated. 32mo, 
 75 cents. School Edition, 40 cents. 
 
 My Summer in a Garden. By CHARLES DUD 
 LEY WARNER. 16mo, $1.00. 
 You cannot open his book without lighting on something 
 
 fresh and fragrant. New York Tribune. 
 
Nature. " Little Classics," Vol. XIV. 18mo, $1.00. 
 
 CONTENTS : A-Hunting of the Deer, by Charles Dudley 
 Warner ; Dogs, by P. G. Hamerton ; In the Hemlocks, by John 
 Burroughs ; A Winter Walk, by H. D. Thoreau ; Birds and 
 Bird Voices, by N. Hawthorne ; The Fens, by C. Kingsley ; 
 Ascent of the Matterhorn, by Edward Whymper ; Ascent of 
 Mount Tyndall, by Clarence King; The Firmament, by John 
 Ruskin. 
 
 Nature, together with Love, Friendship. Do 
 mestic Life, Success, Greatness, and Immortality. By 
 R. W. EMERSON. 32mo, 75 cents ; School Edition, 40 cents. 
 
 Pepacton. By JOHN BURROUGHS. 16mo, $1.50. 
 
 CONTENTS : Pepacton ; A Summer Voyage ; Springs ; An 
 Idyl of the Honey-Bee ; Nature and the Poets ; Notes by the 
 Way ; Foot-Paths ; A Bunch of Herbs ; Winter Pictures ; A 
 Camp in Maine ; A Spring Relish. 
 
 Poems. By R. W. EMERSON. With Portrait. 
 Riverside Edition. 12mo, gilt top, $1.75. 
 
 This volume contains nearly all the pieces included in the 
 former editions of "Poems" and " May-Day," beside other 
 poems not hitherto published. The collection includes a very 
 large number of poems devoted to nature and natural scenery. 
 
 Poems. By CELIA. THAXTER. Small 4to, full gilt. 
 Si. so. 
 
 They are unique in many respects. Our bleak and rocky 
 New England sea-coast, all the wonders of atmospherical and 
 sea-change, have, I think, never before been so musically or 
 tenderly sung about. JOHN G. WHITTIER. 
 
 Poetic Interpretation of Nature. By Principal 
 J. C. SHAIRP. 16mo, gilt top, $1.25. 
 
 Full of learning and genuine appreciation of the poetry of 
 Nature. Portland Press. 
 
 Seaside Studies in Natural History. By ALEX 
 ANDER AGASSIZ and ELIZABETH C. AGASSIZ. Illustrated. 
 8vo, $3.00. 
 
 The scene of these " Studies " is Massachusetts Bay. 
 
 Summer. Selections from the Journals of H. D. 
 THOREAU. With a Map of Concord. 12mo, gilt top, $1.50. 
 
He was the oiie great observer of external nature whom 
 America has yet produced, a most subtle portrayer of his own 
 personal thoughts and life, a tribune of the people, a man who, 
 joined the strongest powers of thought with an absolute love 
 of liberty and a perfect fearlessness of mind. The Indepen 
 dent (New York). 
 
 The Gypsies. By CHARLES G. LELAND. With 
 Sketches of the English, Welsh, Russian, and Austrian 
 Romany ; and papers on the Gypsy Language. Crown 8vo, 
 $2.00. 
 
 We have no hesitation in saying that this is the most de 
 lightful Gypsy book with which we are acquainted. The Spec 
 tator (London). 
 
 The Maine Woods. By HENRY D. THOREAU. 
 
 12mo, gilt top, $1.50. 
 
 Wake-Robin. By JOHN BURROUGHS. Revised 
 
 and enlarged edition, illustrated. 16mo, $1.50. 
 
 CONTENTS : The Return of the Birds ; In the Hemlocks ; 
 Adirondac; Birds -Nests ; Spring at the Capital; Birch Brow 
 sings ; The Bluebird ; The Invitation. 
 
 Walden ; or, Life in the Woods. By HENRY 
 
 D. THOREAU. 12mo, gilt top, $1.50. 
 
 Birds in the Bush. By BRADFORD TORREY. 16mo. 
 
 CONTENTS : On Boston Common ; Bird-Songs ; Character 
 in Feathers ; In the White Mountains ; Phillida and Coridon ; 
 Scraping Acquaintance ; Minor Songsters ; Winter Birds about; 
 Boston ; A Bird-Lover s April ; An Owl s Head Holiday ; A 
 Month s Music. 
 
 Winter Sunshine. By JOHN BURROUGHS. New 
 
 edition, revised and enlarged, with frontispiece illustration. 
 
 16mo, $1.50. 
 
 The minuteness of his observation, the keenness of his per 
 ception, give him a real originality, and his sketches have a 
 delightful oddity, vivacity, and freshness. The Nation (New 
 York). 
 
 *** For sale by all Booksellers. Sent by mail, post-paid, on 
 receipt of price by the Publishers, 
 
 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO., BOSTON, MASS. 
 
14 DAY USE 
 
 RETURN TO DESK FROM WHICH BORROWED 
 
 LOAN DEPT. 
 
 This book is due on the last date stamped below, or 
 
 on the date to which renewed. 
 Renewed books are subject to immediate recall. 
 
 LD 21-100m-6, 56 
 (B9311slO)476 
 
 General Library 
 
 University of California 
 
 Berkeley 
 

 466r> 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY