“‘Kase,” he blurted out, “ye hev been a-tryin’ ter purtend ez ye fund the mine fust, an’ hev been a-tellin’ folks ’bout’n it.”
“Prove it,” said Birt, in sudden elation. “Who war it I tole, an’ when?”
The sly Nathan caught his breath with a gasp. His craft had returned.
Admit that to
him
Birt had divulged the discovery of the mine! Confess, when! This would invalidate the entry!
“Ye tole
Tim
,” Nate said shamelessly, “an’ ez ter when - ’twar yestiddy evenin’ at the tanyard. Didn’t he, Tim?” And he whirled around to his younger brother for confirmation of this audacious and deliberate falsehood.
The abject Tim - poor tool! - frightened and cowering, nodded to admit it. “Gimme the grant, Birt,” he faltered, helplessly. “I oughtn’t ter hev furgot it.”