The shades of evening had settled upon that retired spot, the stronghold of Mr. Cross up in the barrens. The doors and windows of his long, low building, were closed; a light was burning on the counter, beside which were seated the owner of the premises and a companion, very unlike him in appearance, whatever similarity there might be in the temper of their hearts—Mr. Cross having rather a round and plump carcass, with cheeks filled out, and bearing the hue which a liberal allowance of gin and water usually imparts. The other was altogether of the mummy order; his body thin and bent over, his limbs long and bony, with a loose furrowed visage, which looked as though it might once have been supplied with flesh, but its substance having melted away, the outer covering now hung flabby and puckered under his chin and beneath his cheek-bones and at the corners of his mouth; his hair was grisly, and stood far off from his wrinkled forehead, which was broad and high enough to indicate the presence of intellect, or at least room for it; the colour of his eyes it would be hard to determine, for they were very small, and the thick, heavy eye-lashes twinkled so continually, it was almost impossible to catch a glimpse of them. A bottle of gin, a pitcher of water and two tumblers stood on the counter, close beside them; and from this we may infer that the two gentlemen were not dissimilar in some of their tastes.

'Now, Squire (for we must know that this gentleman belonged to an honourable profession), 'I think we've done this job up pretty considerably slick—don't you?'

Turning his long face round as Mr. Cross spoke, so as to bring it into a horizontal position, and shaking it very significantly, as each word fell from his lips in a slow and measured tone—

'It has worked, neighbour Cross, like a charm, just as I told you it would. The shoe pinches now, I guess, and more than one foot too—one, two, three, four; only think of it,'—giving Mr. Cross a poke with one of his long fingers—'only think of it—five birds with one stone—only think of it!'—another poke.

'I never thought, Squire, what you could be at, when you wanted me to lend Bolton that money.'

'I knew though, neighbour, what I was about. Jemmy Bolton wanted money bad; he had property enough laying round for you to slap on any time. You and I, you know, have talked about setting Dave up alongside the Montjoys; that, you see, will never work. Bolton I knew, for he told me of it, owed those boys all of three thousand dollars; they had advanced it to him on the timber, thinking, you see, that all was safe, and that it would be coming along. Stop that, says I; trip up Jemmy Bolton—clap on the timber; that cuts the Montjoys three thousand dollars—no small sum for young folks, considering the times too; then down goes Bolton—that gives Bowers & Co., and Jones & Brothers such a pull, you see, down they go too; ha, ha, ha!'—a poke with the long finger—'both of them owe the Montjoys considerable. That, with Bolton's affair, you see, will just about finish the job for them; they can't stand it no how.'

'Poor fellows! I am almost sorry for them.' Mr. Cross was not so sorry but he could smile a little as he said it.

'I am not a bit—I am not a bit sorry, neighbor; they are upstarts, nothing else; and they have made all the folks about them think that they are the end of the law. No, no; let them go down—the sooner the better; and when they are once down on their back, you see, then up goes Dave. You have got the cash, you know—a dash he will make; and the whole country round will be the better for it.'

'Yes; but, Squire, you know these fellows will fight hard to live it through; they are no fancy boys; they have worked their way along by their own efforts; they stand high at the bank. McFall is a great friend of theirs; they will make the bank help them—see if they don't.'

'I have thought of that too, neighbor'—another hard poke—'I've thought of that; and there you have them too.'

'How so, Squire? I have nothing to do with the bank you know.'

'Don't you know a certain man who would not refuse you a favor for a trifle? Bank Directors are not always so independent as they would wish to be thought—ha, ha, ha!'

'Well, what of him?'

'You just whisper in his ear that it would be no particular accommodation to you, that certain folks should receive any favors; that will be enough. One man, you know, in a board is as good as a dozen'—another poke.

'Well, well, I understand.'

'I thought you did—but what was that? There is nobody sleeps here, I hope?'

'Oh no, it is the dog; he is dreaming I suppose.'

'It startled me though, neighbour, for it would not be quite so clever to have any one get the run of what we have been saying.'

'Never fear, Squire; I shut all up myself.'

'I hope you are sure of that; for I was just going to tell you the best of the whole joke.'

'Tell away, Squire; there are no listeners but the old casks; they won't tell any tales.'

'They do sometimes though, neighbour.'

'How so?'

'They tell a little bit, sometimes by the end of our nose, ha, ha, ha!'—another poke—'don't they? ha, ha, ha! Well, as I was saying, the best of it is all to come. Rutherford is clean done up'—one, two, three pokes right off.

'Rutherford done up! What do you mean now, Squire?'

'Why you know I told you that we had killed five birds with one stone, and so we have. Bolton is dead, the other two fellows are kicking, and the Montjoys will be dead soon: and our old friend Rutherford, whom we have been picking at these six years, is down at last, all gone to smash. Think of that, neighbor Cross.'

Mr. Cross made no reply; but turning to the decanter, filled his own glass and the Squire's about half full of the clear stuff, added a little water to his own, and then swallowed the potion at one draught. The Squire did not trouble the water, preferring the good creature in its pure state.

'Your gin is uncommonly strong, neighbour—'ugh, 'ugh, 'ugh—it almost shakes a body—'ugh, 'ugh, 'ugh.'

'Water it then, why don't you? But what is it about Rutherford, and how has that come?'

'Why, you know as well as I do, that Rutherford is an easy body; you know that the quarry folks have been getting round him, and drawing him in more and more every year. He, good soul! thought all was right, while they have been going on, as you know very well, running into debt deeper and deeper. Well, it is only a little pull that is needed to bring down a great weight when it is tottering and ready to fall. This business of Bolton's has upset the whole concern; they only lost a trifle by him, but it touched them just at a delicate time. People got frightened, and the game was up, and Rutherford is in for all their debts; it is thought it will sweep every thing away, homestead and all.

'Now this, I know, is of no consequence to you: it will not give you any title to these barrens; but now that they are in a muss, will be the time to accomplish our great plan. That deed is not on record yet'—a very hard poke—'you know that your deed from old Ross covers the whole ground, when once this claim of Rutherford's is put one side. Old Rutherford, I suppose, thought that the whole tract here was not worth the trouble of looking after, and the young one, no doubt, thinks that all is right; but mind me, neighbour, now is your time, or never. This land, between you and me, which Rutherford owns here, is worth all the rest of his property put together. These Montjoys have, you see, opened a trade for the timber, and there is no telling what its value will yet be. The creditors will be searching the records; it will soon be found out that this deed is not registered, and then your play is out. What you do, must be done at once.'

'True enough, Squire; his deed once out of the way, mine is worth a trifle no doubt; but the question is, has he a deed at all? and if he has, how can we get hold of it?'

'Ah, neighbour, he has got the deed; I have seen it with my own eyes: you see I have not been idle about this matter of yours, although it is a thing that it will not do to say much about. Some time since, I thought I would just call and inquire about some old matters, merely to see what might turn up. He was very polite, you know, handing me a chair, and all that. "You want to look at the old survey, do you, Squire?" "Yes," said I, "if it is not too much trouble, Mr. Rutherford." "Oh no, by no means." And so he out with the old tin trunk; you have seen that trunk in old Rutherford's time.'

'Oh, yes, often.'

'Well, he out with the old trunk; he keeps it just where the old man did, under the secretary; you know as well as I can tell you.'

'Yes, yes, I've seen it, but go on with your story.'

'Well he out with his trunk, as I was saying, and among the very first papers he threw on the table, was this very deed. Thinks I, old fellow, if I had you once in my grip, I guess I know whose fortune would be made.'

'Well, the thing is now, how to get hold of it.'

'That's the thing neighbour;'—one or two good pokes.

'I have a few good fellows that are up to any thing, only let me tell them what to do.'

'Then it can be done, neighbour. What a nice thing it would be to have a little bit of a fire happen, say about midnight. A pretty state of confusion that would make, you know; doors open, everybody running helter-skelter, all frightened to death! Wouldn't that do?'—a hard poke—'but there is no time to lose.'

Cross evidently relished the idea suggested, for he replenished the glasses again, omitting the water this time; then talking in a much lower tone, named the persons—smart fellows, as he called them—arranged time, place of rendezvous, etc.; to all which the Squire assented, every once in a while putting out his long finger and striking neighbour Cross in the ecstacy of his admiration. And thus they devised this deed of darkness, careless of all the terrible consequences which might result, so that their own crafty designs were accomplished.