“Come along, you fool!” he said to Gabriel, and the three walked on down the road. When they reached the entrance to the graveyard they opened the gate and went in. A fresh stake had been planted on the knoll in the very spot from which Dannie had removed one on that eventful night. It caught Abner Pickett’s eye at once. He strode to it, tore it from its fastening in the soil, and, with a mighty sweep of his arm, sent it whirling into the brook. Dannie looked on in wide-eyed amazement, but he said not a word. While all three knew that the object of the visit to the graveyard was to prevent, if possible, the entry into the lot of the workmen who were expected that morning to begin the grading of the railroad, not one of them mentioned it. Abner Pickett was not in a mood to talk, and the others dared not speak of it. Even as they stood there, the contractor, with his foreman and his gang of laborers, came up through the glen in wagons, with their carts, mules, tools, and appliances for grading. Between the mouth of the gap and the east wall of the graveyard, they halted and began to unload their things, while the contractor and foreman made a hasty examination of the stakes that had already been marked for grade. Abner Pickett walked deliberately to the east wall and seated himself on it, his gun resting carelessly in his lap. Dannie and Gabriel followed him, and took similar positions at his side. “We’ll have to begin in the graveyard,” said McDonough, the contractor, “and cut down that knoll and carry it east here for this fill.” “Then the first thing to do,” replied the foreman, “is to tear away that wall, about where them fellows are sitting on it.” “Exactly. There’s where the line is. Bring your men up and let ’em go at it. Come, gentlemen, you’ll have to vacate your seats up there; we want those stones you’re sitting on.” This last remark was addressed to Abner Pickett and the man and boy who kept him company. “I’m quite comfortable here,” replied the old man; “I don’t think I shall move for the present. Besides, these stones belong to me; an’ so does the graveyard an’ the graves, and I don’t intend you shall touch any of ’em.” McDonough looked up at him in unfeigned surprise. “Are you Abner Pickett?” he asked. “That’s my name.” “I don’t understand what you mean by this conduct, Mr. Pickett. I have your agreement of sale here, conveying a right of way through the graveyard to this company. It was duly signed, sealed, and delivered. I don’t know that you have any right whatever to interfere with us now.” “There are several things about this business that I reckon you don’t know,” replied the old man. “For instance, you don’t know that that agreement was got from me by deception and fraud, and ain’t worth the paper it’s written on. I repeat that I intend to hold possession of this lot.” McDonough continued to protest.