There was a division between them.  He felt the gulf widening.

“I jes’ wanted it fur you-uns, ennyhow,” he said, defending his motives.  “I ’lowed ez I mought make enough out’n it ter buy a horse.”

“I hain’t got time ter sorrow ’bout’n no gold mine,” she said loftily.  “I used ter believe ye set a heap o’ store by yer mother, an’ war willin’ ter trust her—­ye an’ me hevin’ been through mighty hard times together.  But ye don’t—­I reckon ye never did.  I hev los’ mo’ than enny gold mine.”

And this sorrow for a vanished faith resolved itself into tears with which she salted her humble bread.

CHAPTER VIII.

If she had had any relish for triumph, she might have found it in Birt’s astonishment to learn that she understood all the details of entering land, which had been such a mystery to him.

“‘Twar the commonest thing in the worl’, whenst I war young, ter hear ‘bout’n folks enterin’ land,” she said.  “But nowadays thar ain’t no talk ’bout’n it sca’cely, ‘kase the best an’ most o’ the land in the State hev all been tuk up an’ entered—­’ceptin’ mebbe a trac’, hyar an’ thar, full o’ rock, an’ so steep ’t ain’t wuth payin’ the taxes on.”

Simple as she was, she could have given him valuable counsel when it was sorely needed.  He hung about the house later than was his wont, bringing in the store of wood for her work during the day, and “packing” the water from the spring, with the impulse in his attention to these little duties to make what amends he might.

When at last he started for the tanyard, he knew by the sun that he was long over-due.  He walked briskly along the path through the sassafras and sumach bushes, on which the rain-drops still clung.  He was presently brushing them off in showers, for he had begun to run.  It occurred to him that this was no time to seem even a trifle remiss in his work at the tanyard.  Since he had lost all his hopes down the ravine, the continuance of Jube Perkins’s favor and the dreary routine with the mule and the bark-mill were his best prospects.  It would never do to offend the tanner now.

“With sech a pack o’ chill’n ter vittle ez we-uns hev got at our house,” he muttered.

As he came crashing through the underbrush into view of the tanyard, he noticed instantly that it did not wear its usual simple, industrial aspect.  A group of excited men were standing in front of the shed, one of them gesticulating wildly.

And running toward the bars came Tim Griggs, panting and white-faced, and exclaiming incoherently at the sight of Birt.

“Oh, Birt,” he cried, “I war jes’ startin’ to yer house arter you-uns; they tole me to go an’ fetch ye.  Fur massy’s sake, gimme Nate’s grant.  I’m fairly afeared o’ him.  He’ll break every bone I own.”  He held out his hand.  “Gimme the grant!”

“Nate’s grant!” exclaimed Birt aghast.  “I hain’t got it!  I hain’t” -