"Wait, Burr. I must see you to-night, alone. I have something of great importance to tell you. Meantime, look at this—but, remember, don't breathe a word of your suspicions. Keep it hid—at least until I say you may speak."
The young man, Duplin, seemed strongly excited for one of his usual phlegm. As he spoke, he thrust a small article into Wythe's hand, and renewing his caution, glided hastily away.
Wonderingly Burr bent over the stone—for such it seemed. But then a wild glow filled his eyes, lighting up his entire countenance, while his muscular form quivered like one under the influence of an ague-shock.
"Is it—can it be gold?" he gasped, huskily.
He too was a victim of the "yellow fever." It had lured him from his far-away home amidst the northern pines of Maine. It had proved stronger than the pleadings of his aged father and mother, stronger than the love of his sister and younger brother. He had left them all to chase up this glittering phantom; and now, for the first time, his eyes rested upon the substance of his dreams by day and by night.
Little wonder, then, that his heart beat fast and hard, that his brain throbbed hotly and his eyes gleamed with a wild light—with the long smoldering fires of greed that might waken to avarice.
The little pebble lay in his palm, looking innocent enough. Its dull surface was scratched and cut here and there, as if by a knife-point. If gold, the nugget must be very pure.
"Hellow, old boy, what ye thinkin' so soberly 'bout, eh?" suddenly uttered a not disagreeable voice, as a heavy hand was placed upon Burr's shoulder, and a heavily-bearded face met his startled gaze.
Wythe started, and the nugget fell from his hand. Hastily he snatched it up, and thrust it into his pocket, but not before the keen black eyes of the new-comer had fallen upon it. In his agitation Burr did not notice the quick, suspicious flash that lighted up the man's face, else he might have used more caution.
"What is it to you, Nate Upshur?" and Wythe shook the hand from his shoulder, with a gesture of dislike. "My thoughts are my own, and none the more agreeable for you thrusting yourself in upon them."