Near the big rock they found a stake. It was one set by the engineers who made the last survey, but it was within five feet of the place occupied by the one Dannie had pulled out the night before. The old man gazed at it bitterly.
“Takes the best part o’ the lot,” he said. “Spoils the meadow,” he continued, as he looked down the line, “cuts my farm in two, prevents me from gettin’ to water, destroys the public road, a damage and a curse.”
They followed down the line of stakes as he talked. The survey took almost exactly the same route as had the one made by the D. V. & E. engineers the afternoon before. The crossing at the public road was not five feet from the first location, for Dannie saw the place in the bank where he had pulled out the stake.
“Ruins the road,” muttered the old man, “ruins the brook, ruins the gap, ruins the farm, despoils the tomb!”
He was working himself into a passion again. Dannie foresaw that in ten minutes more he would be at a white heat.
“Why don’t you pull the stakes out, Gran’pap, an’ throw ’em into the brook?”
Dannie never knew what strange impulse forced him to ask that question. The old man turned on him instantly.
“Don’t speak of it; it’s against the law.”
“But you said last night that no better deed could be done.”
“I was in a temper last night an’ said things I shouldn’t. No Pickett was ever yet arrested for violatin’ the law. You and I don’t want to be the first ones.”