Nobody noticed it, for Nate was swaggering about in the crowd, enjoying this conspicuous opportunity to display all the sophistications he had acquired in his recent trip to Sparta. He was calling upon them to witness that he did not care for the loss of the grant - the
paper
was nothing to him! - for it was on record in the land office, and he could get a certified copy from the register in no time at all. But his rights were his
rights
! - and ten thousand Diceys should not trample on them. Birt had doubtless thought, being ignorant, that he could destroy the title by making away with the paper; and if there was law in the State, he should suffer for it.
And after this elaborate rodomontade, Nate strode out of the tanyard, with the obsequious Tim following humbly.
Birt told his story again and again, to satisfy curious questioners during the days that ensued. And when he had finished they would look significantly at one another, and chuckle incredulously.
The tanner seemed to earnestly wish to befriend him, and urged him to confess. “The truth’s the only thing ez kin save ye, Birt.”
“I’m tellin’ the truth,” poor Birt would declare.
Then Jube Perkins argued the question: “How kin ye expec’ ennybody ter b’lieve ye when ye say Tennessee purvented ye from takin’ the grant - ennything the size o’ leetle Tennie, thar.”