"A man like me with a wife an' son be in the worse fix of all," declared Woodman moodily. "If evil follows, I may be twisting a scourge for the next generation, whereas you that be childless can only catch it in your own case an' Dinah's. Still, to go back to peat-cutting after Fox Tor Farm is a great fall." "The Devil's tempting you, Harvey!" cried Mr. Smallridge. "Shut your mouth, or I'll hit 'e on it!" retorted Kekewich savagely. "Leave 'em to fight it out. They've got to do their duty, an' I'd like to know whenever the A'mighty punished any man for doing that?" "There's my duty to my master an' my duty to my conscience. 'Tis our duty to our master to do what he pays us to do; and us be paid to work, not to think," argued Woodman. "If evil's to be hatched, us won't catch it," declared Bickford. "When a man sets a rick on light, ban't the flint an' steel they has up for arsony, but the chap hisself. We'm no more than the flint an' steel in this matter." "We've got immortal parts, however," argued Beer. "We may hide our bodies behind another chap; but can us hide our souls? What I want to know is the nature of the harm we'll do. What's the name of it?" "'Tis insulting the Lord of Hosts," said Uncle Smallridge tremulously. "Gammon!" answered Kekewich. "'Tis obeying them as the Lord have set in authority over you. We've got to do with a dead stone; an' the chap who be buried here found his way to heaven or hell long afore the Lord, in a weak moment, let your parents get a fool like you." "'Tis the shape that shakes us, not the stone," explained Woodman; "an' I wish you'd decide an' have done with it, Richard Beer. We are ready to go by you, for 'tis well knowed that you've a conscience as works so active as your skin in harvest time." "Well," replied Beer, "I can't see no flaw in what Bickford said. My conscience is allowed pretty peart, I believe; an it don't give me a twinge in this matter; though I'd much rather not do it all the same." "Suppose the lightning struck us," suggested Putt, and Beer scanned the sky. "Can't without a Bible miracle; an', good or bad, the size of this job be too small for that. What harm falls will most surely fall 'pon master, not us." "If I thought Miss Grace would suffer, I'd see the stone rot to dust afore I'd touch it," declared Putt. "Whether or no, we've got to pull down Childe's Tomb, an' make a bridge; an' my conscience, an' my wages, an' my common sense all point the same way, so here goes," summed up Mr. Beer. "I'm with you," said Bickford. "An' me too," added Putt; "an' come Judgment Day, if there's a sharp word said to me, I shall name your name, Dick Beer." "An' you, Harvey?" For answer Mr. Woodman turned to the sledge that his son had brought up. From this he took a rope and some long irons. "Come on! Let's get it over. Once the cross be down, our minds will grow easier. 'Tis the shape, I tell you, as makes us so weak for a moment."