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"
-

He paused abruptly. He could not say that he had not touched it.

Tim's wits were sharpened by the keen anxiety of the crisis. He