Sprowl glanced at his mare, whistled, and turned squarely on his heel,
walking slowly along the river-bank. The sorrel followed like a dog;
presently Munn stood up and deliberately stalked off after Sprowl,
rejoining that gentleman a few rods down the river-bank.

"Well," said Sprowl, turning suddenly on Munn, "what are you doing
here?"

From his lank height Munn's eyes were nevertheless scarcely level with
the eyes of the burly president.

"I'm here," said Munn, "to sell the land."

"I thought so," said Sprowl, curtly. "How much?"

Munn picked a buttercup and bit off the stem. With the blossom between
his teeth he surveyed the sky, the river, the forest, and then the
features of Sprowl.

"How much?" asked Sprowl, impatiently.

Munn named a sum that staggered Sprowl, but Munn could perceive no
tremor in the fat, blank face before him.

"And if we refuse?" suggested Sprowl.

Munn only looked at him.

Sprowl repeated the question.

"Well," observed Munn, stroking his beard reflectively, "there's that
matter of the title."

This time Sprowl went white to his fat ears. Munn merely glanced at him,
then looked at the river.

"I will buy the title this time," said Sprowl, hoarsely.

"You can't," said Munn.

A terrible shock struck through Sprowl; he saw through a mist; he laid
his hand on a tree-trunk for support, mechanically facing Munn all the
while.

"Can't!" he repeated, with dry lips.

"No, you can't buy it."

"Why?"

"O'Hara's daughter has it."

"But--she will sell! Won't she sell? Where is she?" burst out Sprowl.

"She won't sell," said Munn, studying the ghastly face of the president.

"You can make her sell," said Sprowl. "What is your price?"

"I can't make her sell the title to your club property," said Munn.
"She'll sell this land here. Take it or leave it."

"If I take it--will _you_ leave?" asked Sprowl, hoarsely.

Munn smiled, then nodded.

"And will that shut your mouth, you dirty scoundrel?" said Sprowl,
gripping his riding-crop till his fat fingernails turned white.

"It will shut _my_ mouth," said Munn, still with his fixed smile.

"How much extra to keep this matter of the title quiet--as long as I
live?"

"As long as you live?" repeated Munn, surprised.

"Yes, I don't care a damn what they say of me after I'm dead," snarled
Sprowl.

Munn watched him for a moment, plucked another buttercup, pondered,
smoothed out his rich, brown, silky beard, and finally mentio