ed with it in appearance.

A little way from the house was a tall, gaunt man, engaged in mending
a fence. He was dressed in a farmer's blue frock and overalls, and
his gray, stubby beard seemed to be of a week's growth. There was a
crafty, greedy look in his eyes, which overlooked a nose sharp and
aquiline. His feet were incased in a pair of cowhide boots. He
looked inquiringly at Taylor as he approached, but hardly deigned to
look at Ben, who probably seemed too insignificant to notice. He gave
a shrewd guess at the errand of the visitor, but waited for him to
speak first.

"Is this Mr. Jackson?" asked Taylor, with a polite bow.

"That's my name, stranger," answered the old man.

"My name is Taylor. I wrote to you last week."

"I got the letter," said Jackson, going on with his work. It was his
plan not to seem too eager but to fight shy in order to get his price.
Besides, though he would have been glad to close the bargain on the
spot, there was an embarrassing difficulty. The farm was not his to
sell, and he was anxiously awaiting Mrs. Hamilton's answer to his
proposal.

"She can't have heard of the oil discoveries," he thought, "and five
thousand dollars will seem a big price for the farm. She can't help
agreeing to my terms."

This consideration made him hopeful, but for all that, he must wait,
and waiting he found very tantalizing.

"Have you decided to accept my offer, Mr. Jackson?"

"Waal, I'll have to take a leetle time to consider. How much did you
say you'd give?"

"Forty thousand dollars."

"I'd ought to have fifty."

"Forty thousand dollars is a big sum of money."

"And this farm is a perfect gold mine. Shouldn't wonder if it would
net a hundred thousand dollars."

"There is no certainty of that, and the purchasers will have to take a
big risk"

"There isn't much risk. Ask anybody in Centerville what he thinks of
the Jackson farm."

"Suppose I were ready to come to your terms--mind, I don't say I
am--would you sign the papers to-day?"

Jackson looked perplexed. He knew could not do it.

"What's your hurry?" he said.

"The capitalists whom I represent are anxious to get to work as soon
as possible. That's natural, isn't, it?"

"Ye-es," answered Jackson.

"So, the sooner we fix matters the better. I want to go back to New
York to-morrow if I can."

"I don't think I can give my answer as soon as that. Wait a minute,
though."

A boy was approaching, Jackson's son