ll buy it of ye," said David, "if it's
handled right. I wouldn't lease it if it was mine an' I wanted to sell
it, an' yet, in the long run, you might git more out of it--an' then
agin you mightn't," he added.

"I don't know anything about it," said John, putting his handkerchief to
his mouth in a fit of coughing. David looked at him with a frown.

"I ben aware fer some time that the' was a movement on foot in your
direction," he said. "You know I told ye that I'd ben int'ristid in the
oil bus'nis once on a time; an' I hain't never quite lost my int'rist,
though it hain't ben a very active one lately, an' some fellers down
there have kep' me posted some. The' 's ben oil found near where you're
located, an' the prospectin' points your way. The hull thing has ben
kep' as close as possible, an' the holes has ben plugged, but the oil is
there somewhere. Now it's like this: If you lease on shares an' they
strike the oil on your prop'ty, mebbe it'll bring you more money; but
they might strike, an' agin they mightn't. Sometimes you git a payin'
well an' a dry hole only a few hunderd feet apart. Nevertheless they
want to drill your prop'ty. I know who the parties is. These fellers
that wrote this letter are simply actin' for 'em."

The speaker was interrupted by another fit of coughing, which left the
sufferer very red in the face, and elicited from him the word which is
always greeted with laughter in a theater.

"Say," said David, after a moment, in which he looked anxiously at his
companion, "I don't like that cough o' your'n."

"I don't thoroughly enjoy it myself," was the rejoinder.

"Seems to be kind o' growin' on ye, don't it?"

"I don't know," said John.

"I was talkin' with Doc Hayes about ye," said David, "an' he allowed
you'd ought to have your shoes off an' run loose a spell."

John smiled a little, but did not reply.

"Spoke to you about it, didn't he?" continued David.

"Yes."

"An' you told him you couldn't git away?"

"Yes."

"Didn't tell him you wouldn't go if you could, did ye?"

"I only told him I couldn't go," said John.

David sat for a moment thoughtfully tapping the desk with his
eyeglasses, and then said with his characteristic chuckle:

"I had a letter f'm Chet Timson yestidy."

John looked up at him, failing to see the connection.

"Yes," said David, "he's out fer a job, an' the way he writes I guess
the dander's putty well out of him. I reckon the' hain't ben nothin'
much but ha