your family affairs," went
on Horace Kelsey. "It's a pity you haven't a clear title to this land about
here."

"We have a clear enough title if only we can find the papers in this case,"
returned Ralph, promptly.

"I understand a syndicate from Chambersburgh are thinking of locating a big
shoe factory here. If they do that, Westville will have a boom."

"It would have boomed long ago if it hadn't been for Squire Paget and some
others. They hold their land so high and keep the taxes on the hat factory
up so, the manufacturers are scared away."

"That is true, especially when other places donate them land free and
exempt them from all taxation for from five to ten years."

"Do they do that?"

"Certainly, and in many cases it pays very well, for the factories employ
hundreds of hands, who receive fair wages, and that is spent in the place
where it is earned."

"It's a wonder that shoe factory would come here, if such inducements are
offered elsewhere," said Ralph, thoughtfully.

"I understand several men, including Squire Paget and the postmaster of
this place, have received stock in the concern. I do not know much about
the deal. I only heard it talked over at the hotel."

"Where are they going to locate the factory?"

"Somewhere along the water front, I believe."

"Then it will be around here!" cried Ralph. "That is our land over there,"
he pointed with his hand. "I wish we could prove our title to it."

"So do I, Ralph, and I wish I could help you. You haven't any idea who had
the papers last?"

"No, sir."

"Too bad. I would advertise for them, and even offer a reward for them."

"I will," returned Ralph, quickly. "I'll use this twenty dollars you have
given me for that very purpose."

Horace Kelsey remained with Ralph the best part of an hour longer, and then
started for a walk through the village, stating that he would call on Bob
Sanderson and see how the boat repairing was progressing.

When he was out of sight, Ralph pulled the twenty-dollar bill from his
purse to make sure that he had not been dreaming. But there was the money
true enough. There was a grease spot on one corner of the bill, left by the
butter on the sandwich, but this did no harm.

"Hallo, there, Ralph Nelson, counting your fortune!" cried a rude voice
from the shore, and looking up, Ralph saw a loudly-dressed youth
approaching. He hastily slipped the twenty-dollar bill into his pocket.

CHAPTER IV.

THE QUARREL ON TH