blame for that," said Bobby. "But still, I don't think I
care to buy any more of this property." And he smiled grimly at the
absurdity of it all.

"I'll sue you for it!" shrieked Applerod, frantic from thwarted
self-interest. "You prevented me from selling out at a profit when I
had a chance! You bound me hand and foot when I knew that if Silas
Trimmer had anything to gain by it we would lose! He knew all the time
that this swamp was fed by underground springs. He bragged about it to
me this morning as I passed him on the road. He told me last night I'd
better come out here this morning."

"I see," said Bobby coldly, and he reached for his lever.

"Then you won't hold good to your offer?" gasped the other.

Pale before, he had turned ashen now, and Bobby looked at him with
quick compunction. Applerod, always so chubbily youthful for a man of
his years, was grown suddenly old. He seemed to have shrunk inside his
clothes, his face to have turned flabby, his eyes to have dimmed.
After all, he was an old man, and the little that he had scraped
together represented all that he could hope to amass in a none too
provident lifetime. This day made him a pauper and there was no chance
for a fresh start. Bobby himself was young and strong, and, moreover,
his resources were by no means exhausted.

"I'll tell you what I'll do, Applerod," said he, after a moment of
very sober thought. "Your property cost you in the neighborhood of
four thousand. Interest since the time you first began to invest in it
would bring it up to a little more than that. I'll give you five
thousand."

"I won't accept it.--Yes, I will! yes, I will!" he cried as Bobby
impatiently reached again for his lever.

"Very well," said Bobby, "wait a minute." And tearing a leaf from his
memorandum-book he wrote a note to Johnson to see to the transfer of
the property and deliver to Applerod a check for five thousand
dollars.

"That was more than generous; it was foolish," protested Jimmy Platt,
as they whirled away.

"No doubt," admitted Bobby dryly. "But, if I'm forced to be a fool, I
might as well have a well-finished job of it."

CHAPTER XII

AGNES DECIDES THAT SHE WILL WAIT

Applerod, his poise nearly recovered, bounded into the office where
Johnson sat stolidly working away, his sense of personal contentedness
enhanced by the presence of Biff Bates, who sat idly upon the flat-top
desk, dangling his legs and waiting for Bobby. Mr. Applerod p