"Nor would ye, only ye wanted help. But best kape a bridle on yer tongue, my fri'nd. I don't take black words from anybody," quietly added Dooley.
"Dry up—quit yer quarrelin'. Whar's the use? It don't do no good, an' only makes bad blood. We're workin' in harness now, an' each must keep up his eend. Fust work—then pleasure. Fight then as much as ye please. But I think that's a good idea o' your'n, Upshur. We kin block 'em in, s'posin' they give us a chaince, an' then, when we're ready to travel, we kin set 'em free. But mind ye, this we've got to do. I won't take a step in the matter onless this is all onderstood."
"Nayther will I."
"Just as you like about that," impatiently added Upshur. "But we're losing valuable time. That may be but a small den, and we be too late. Then if they see us, it must come to blows."
"Ef they begin, why we'll give 'em the best we've got, in course. Come, then, le's travel."
Descending the ridge, the three men ran hastily across the level valley, and soon gained the second hill. As the reader knows, this danger was not suspected by either Duplin or Wythe.
"You and Tim see if you can roll over that big rock above there," muttered Upshur, kneeling down beside a bowlder. "I'll agree that they shall not disturb your work, if they hear you too soon. I can keep them back, I guess."
At that moment, as he covered the entrance to the cave with a revolver in either hand, cocked and ready, Nathan Upshur ardently hoped that the two men he hated with such venomous animosity would appear. A good shot, he felt that the path before him would soon be cleared, and the stain of the midnight murder fairly fixed upon the innocent Burr Wythe.
Exerting their strength to the utmost, the two men at length succeeded in toppling over the bowlder, that must have weighed many tons. Had it not been so nicely poised, their efforts would have been in vain.
As the huge mass settled fairly over the hole, Nate Upshur laughed aloud in diabolical glee. He knew that mortal hands could not remove the rock, without the aid of strong tools. In the excitement of the moment, neither Chicot nor Dooley had thought of this, and they now felt a pang of regret. It seemed as though they had been committing a cowardly murder.