"You speak sharp words, youngster, but best weigh them better. You're not in the States, now, where a man's afeard to take up a cross word for fear o' the courts. Take a fool's advice, an' give a civil answer to a civil question, or you may chaince to run foul o' a snag, one o' these long-come-shortlys."
"And I hold myself ready to accommodate you, whenever you feel inclined to try it on, Nate Upshur. I hope that is plain enough for your comprehension," contemptuously added Burr, turning away.
Upshur bit his lip fiercely, and fingered the brass-bound butt of the revolver at his waist, but made no attempt to draw it.
"Fer little I'd—but never mind, now. But I would like to know whar he got that—if it was gold."
As the broad red disk of the full moon rose above the eastern swell that night, it shone down upon a peculiarly weird and impressive scene in the little timber-grove beside the creek. It was a burial in the wilderness.
Beneath a wide-spreading cottonwood tree the grave had been dug. And now, gathered round the spot, with bowed and uncovered heads, stood or knelt every member of the wagon-train, listening to the broken, sobbing words of the bereaved husband, Mr. Mitchell. His daughter, Lottie, was beside him, pale and care-worn, bearing up against the blow with a fictitious strength that threatened to give way at any moment.
There was scarcely a dry eye among all these, as the strong man broke down, and bowing his head, mingled his tears with those of his daughter. It was a moment of heart-crushing agony.
Lottie, who was completely exhausted, swooned, and was borne to the nearest tent by sympathizing friends. Mr. Mitchell, nerving himself to the task, completed the service, then stood by in silence while the dead was being hidden forever from mortal view. Then, in a low but steady voice, he spoke:
"I thank you, friends, for your kindness. I will not soon forget it. But now go and try to sleep. We can afford to lose no more time. To-morrow day-dawn must see us once more upon the road. Go—leave me alone here for a minute."
"Come with me, Wythe, and you too, Tyrrel," muttered Paley Duplin. "There's something I'd like to talk over with you to-night."