He would not leave her
lying there if he could help it, and yet he did not want Wambush to
know she had warned him. The gang stopped, and Washburn came to them.
"Any directions you want to give?" he asked of Westerfelt.
"I saw you looking for the account-book," answered Westerfelt, staring
significantly into his eyes. "I was in the blacksmith's shop to-day
and left it on the forge."
Washburn stared blankly at him for an instant, then he said, slowly,
"All right."
"You'd better get it to-night," added Westerfelt.
"All right, sir. I'll attend to everything."
"Cool as a cucumber," laughed a man. "Next thing you know he'll give
orders 'bout whar he wants to be buried, an' what to have cut on his
grave-rock."
The whole gang laughed at this witticism, and started on again. When
they had gone about a hundred yards Westerfelt glanced back. He saw
Washburn cross the road and enter the blacksmith's shop, and the next
instant the shop was hidden by a sudden turn in the road. They passed
the meeting-house and began to ascend the mountain. Here and there
along the dark range shone the red fires of chestnut harvesters.
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