“He did count on stayin’ longer,” said Tim, “but he rid night an’ day ter git hyar sooner.  It ’pears like ter me he war in sech a hurry so ez ter start me ter work, and nuthin’ else in this worl’.  I owe Nate a debt, ye see, an’ I hev ter work it out.  I hev been so onlucky ez I couldn’t make out ter pay him nohow in the worl’.  Ye see, I traded with Nate fur a shoat, an’ the spiteful beastis sneaked out’n my pen, an’ went rootin’ round the aidge o’ the clearin’, an’ war toted off bodaciously by a bar ez war a-prowlin’ round thar.  An’ I got no good o’ that thar shoat, ’kase the bar hed him, but I hed to pay fur him all the same.  An’ dad gin his cornsent ter Nate ter let me work a month an’ better fur him, ter pay out’n debt fur the shoat.”

“What work be you-uns goin’ ter do?” Birt had a strong impression, amounting to a conviction, that there was something behind all this, which he was slowly approaching.

“Why,” said Tim, in surprise, “hain’t ye hearn bout’n Nate’s new land what he hev jes’ got ‘entered’ ez he calls it?  He hev got a grant fur it from the land-office down yander in Sparty, whar he hev been.”

“New land—­’entered!’” faltered Birt.

Tim nodded.  “Nate fund a trac’ o’ land a-layin’ ter suit his mind what b’longed ter nobody but the State—­vacant land, ye see—­an’ so he went ter the ‘entry-taker,’ they calls him, an’ gits it ‘entered,’ an’ the surveyor kem an’ medjured it, an’ then Nate got a grant fur it, an’ now it air his’n.  The Gov’nor o’ the State hev sot his name ter that thar grant—­the Gov’nor o’ Tennessee!” reiterated Tim pridefully.  “An’ the great seal o’ the State!”

“Whar be the land?” gasped Birt, possessed by a dreadful fear.

His face was white, its muscles rigid.  Its altered expression could not for an instant have escaped the notice of Timothy’s brother Nathan.

“Why, it lays bout’n haffen mile off—­all down the ravine nigh that thar salt-lick; but look-a-hyar, Birt—­what ails ye?”

The stunned despair in the white face had at last arrested his careless attention.

“Don’t ye be mindin’ of me—­I feel sorter porely an’ sick all of a suddint; tell on ‘bout the land an’ sech,” said Birt.

He sat down on the end of the wood-pile, and Tim, still leaning on the rifle, recommenced.  He was generally much cowed and kept down by Nate, and was unaccustomed to respect and consideration.  Therefore he felt a certain gratification in having so attentive a listener.

“Waal, I never hearn o’ this fashion o’ enterin’ land like Nate done in all my life afore; though dad say that’s the law in Tennessee, ter git a title ter vacant land ez jes’ b’longs ter the State.  Mebbe them air the ways ez Nate l’arned whilst he war a-hangin’ round the Settlemint so constant, an’ forever talkin’ ter the men thar.”

Birt’s precocity had never let him feel at a disadvantage with Nate, although his friend was five years older.  Now he began to appreciate that Nate was indeed a man grown, and had become sophisticated in the ways of his primitive world by his association with the other men at the Settlement.