Part 7 (1/2)

Tim nodded. ”Nate fund a trac' o' land a-layin' ter suit his mind what b'longed ter n.o.body but the State--vacant land, ye see--an' so he went ter the 'entry-taker,' they calls him, an' gits it '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 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.

”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, recommenced. 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 fas.h.i.+on o' enterin' land like Nate done in all my life afore; though dad say that's the law in Tennessee, ter git a t.i.tle ter vacant land ez jes' b'longs ter the State.

Mebbe them air the ways ez Nate l'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 was five years older. Now he began to appreciate that Nate was indeed a man grown, and had become sophisticated in the ways of his primitive world by his a.s.sociation with the other men at the Settlement.

There was a pause. But the luxury of being allowed to talk without contradiction or rebuke 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?” exclaimed Birt, astounded.

”Naw, 'twarn't HIM,” Tim admitted somewhat 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 warn't wuth a cent an acre.”

”What did Nate say?” asked Birt, who hung with feverish interest on every thoughtless 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 ennybody 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'

notice.”

Tim winked, an impressive demonstration but for the insufficiency of eyelashes: -

”The surveyor he mis...o...b..ed, 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 c.u.mberland Mountings hain't got no gold. An' then in a minit he tuk ter mis...o...b..in' on the t'other side o' his mouth. He 'lowed ez Nate's min'ral MOUGHT be gold, an' then ag'in it moughtn'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, s.h.i.+fting 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.

”What in the nation air inside o' that thar boy?” he exclaimed. ”A chicken, ain't it?”

For a musical treble chirping was heard proceeding apparently from Rufe's pocket. This chicken differed from others that Rufe had put away, in being alive and hearty.