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. 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 instantly ready to accuse Birt. "Ye hev been hyar an' got the grant an' sneaked it off agin, hev ye!" he cried, scowling at the boy. Then he turned to the tanner. "I hope I may drap dead, Jube," he said earnestly, "ef that grant warn't right hyar"--he pointed at the spot--"las' night whenst I lef' the tanyard. I always looked late every evenin' ter be sure it hedn'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." 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 suddenly 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. "Stand back thar, Tennessee," Birt murmured mechanically. As usual, Towse was the precursor of Rufe, who presently dawdled out from the underbrush. 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 contemplative group. "This hyar tan hev got sorter moist atop now; I wonder ef that thar grant o' Nate's got spi'led ennywise with the damp." Birt winced. It had been a certain mitigation 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 that there, at least, the atmosphere was untainted with suspicion.