"Is it about that piece—"
"Yes—but hist!" and Duplin glanced apprehensively around him. "We three are enough. I don't care for more in the secret—much less that man," and he nodded to where Nate Upshur stood leaning against a tree-trunk, close at hand.
"Come, then; the knoll out yonder is the best place. No one could get within ear-shot of us, even should they try, without being seen."
"What's up, boys?" muttered Jack Tyrrel, a young rattle-brained Ohioan.
"Wait—you'll know soon enough."
Gaining the knoll spoken of, the three friends crouched down amid the tall, rank grass and lighted their pipes. Duplin was the first to break the silence.
"You looked at what I showed you, Burr?"
"Yes; it's gold. Where did you get it, Paley?"
"Gold—le's see," eagerly interrupted Tyrrel.
"Wait—the moon does not shine clear enough to show it now. Now, then, I want you to pay particular attention to what I say. Weigh it well in your minds, for on this night the whole course of our future lives may depend. That is, on how you decide. You understand?"