ON TUMBLE RIDGE.
Although Uncle Nathan was eager to arm his own people and seek a meeting with the "miscreants," who, he declared, were endeavoring to ruin him, Mr. Wyeth's cool counsels and Uncle Daniel's restraining voice prevailed, and nothing had been done.
But Nathaniel Frothingham refused to go to bed, and paced the floor all night. At daybreak he and his brother, with Cloud, the overseer, and Mr. Wyeth, made their way up on the ridge. At first nothing appeared amiss, but when they had gone a short way into the shaft they came upon a scene of havoc.
The Hewes' Mine and the Frothinghams' had been joined into one big excavation that was filled with the débris of the timbers and great masses of ore.
It was true! For some months the Frothinghams had been working upon the other's property. They had been separated only by a thin wall of rock, and it was this intervening partition that had been blown up in the night.
The Hewes' shaft was deserted; but Uncle Nathan, when he reached the air, climbed to a high point where he could look into the eastern valley.
He shook his fist out over the silent woods and meadows. "I'll be even with you, you cowardly rascals!" he exclaimed. "You'll account to me for every bit of it, Mason Hewes, I'll warrant ye." He dashed his hat and his wig upon the ground, and stamped upon them in his wrath.
Suddenly from behind a clump of bushes came three men, walking quickly forward. They were Mr. Mason Hewes, his cousin the tall man carrying the rifle, and a stranger.
They came quite close before a word was said. In the mean time Daniel Frothingham and Mr. Wyeth had placed themselves on Uncle Nathan's either hand, while Cloud had thrown back his coat, showing a big horse-pistol thrust into his belt.
"I beg pardon," said Mr. Hewes, stepping ahead of the others. "But some one called my name a moment since; have any of you gentlemen aught to say to me?" He bowed politely, but his face was pale, and it was evident that he was restraining himself only by a great effort.