The afternoon was waning. The scarlet sun in magnified splendor was ablaze low down in the saffron west. The world seemed languorously 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 wouldn't be opened ag'in fur a right smart time?" 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 didn'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 happen. 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? 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 curiosity, 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. Byers stared with a frown at the tan, and lifted another board. Nothing appeared beneath it on the smooth surface of the bark.