"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 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, believin' ez he hed dressed out that thar blackberry 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 wouldn'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' round, an' I HEV FUND THE PLACE WHAR HE HEV HID IT." And the woodpecker still was solemnly tapping, 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, being 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 feel that he left at least one friend in the tanyard, 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' mebbe ye'll 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."