"I ain't agoin' ter tell ye, without we-uns kin strike a trade."

"Waal," said Nate, with difficulty repressing his impatience, "what
air you-uns aimin' ter do?"

"Ye knows ez I hev ter bide hyar with the bark-mill mos'ly, jes'
now," said Birt, beginning to expound the series of ideas which he
had carefully worked out in his midnight vigil, "'kase they hev got
ter hev a heap o' tan ter fill them thar vats ag'in. Ef I war ter
leave an' go a-gold huntin', the men on the mounting would find out
what I war arter, an' they'd come a-grabblin' thar too, an' mebbe
git it all, 'kase I dunno how much or how leetle thar be. I wants
ter make sure of enough ter buy a horse, or a mule, or su'thin', ef
I kin, 'fore I tells ennybody else. An' I 'lowed ez ye an' me would
go pardners. Ye'd take my place hyar at the tanyard one day, whilst
I dug, an' I'd bide in the tanyard nex' day. An' we would divide
fair an' even all we fund."

Nate did not reply. He was absorbed in a project that had come into
his head as his friend talked, and the two dissimilar trains of
thought combined in a mental mosaic that would have amazed Birt
Dicey.

"Ye see," Birt presently continued, "I dunno when I kin git shet o'
the tanyard this year. Old Jube Perkins 'lows ez he air mighty busy
'bout'n them hides an' sech, an' he wants me ter holp around
ginerally. He say ef I do mo' work'n I owes him, he'll make that
straight with my mother. An' he declares fur true ef I don't holp
him at this junctry, when he needs me, he won't hire his mule to my
mother nex' spring; an' ye know it won't do fur we-uns ter resk the