“
I
know whar it be,” said Byers. Birt gazed at him astounded.
“Whar?” he cried eagerly.
“Whar ye hid it,” returned Byers coolly.
Birt’s lips moved with difficulty as he huskily ejaculated “I never hid it - I never!”
“Ye needn’t deny it. I ez good ez seen ye hide it.”
Birt looked dazed for a moment. Then the blood rushed to his face and as suddenly receded, leaving it pale and rigid. He was cold and trembling. He could not speak.
The tanner scrutinized him narrowly. Then he said, “Tell him ’bout it, Andy. Tell him jes’ ez ye tole me. An’ mebbe he’ll hev sense enough ter gin it up when he sees he air fairly caught.”
“Waal,” said Byers, leaning back against the wall of the smoke-house, and holding the knife idly poised in his hand, “I kem down ter the tanyard betimes that mornin’ arter the storm. Both ye an’ Birt war late. I noticed Nate Griggs’s coat hangin’ thar in the shed, with a paper stickin’ out’n the pocket, ez I started inter the smoke-house ter tend ter the fire. I reckon I mus’ hev made consider’ble racket in thar, ’kase I never hearn nuthin’ till I sot down afore the fire on a log o’ wood, an’ lit my pipe. All of a suddenty thar kem a step outside, toler’ble light on the tan. I jes’ ’lowed ’t war ye or Birt. But I happened ter look up, an’ thar I see a couple o’ big black eyes peepin’ through that thar crack in the wall.”