r and a slight look of disappointment. "Just as you say,
sir. You was full of it a spell ago, and I kind o' kep' the matter in
mind. It ain't no plot o' mine, 'cept to oblige you. I don't want to
move my riggin' nowhere for the sake o' two trees--one tree, you might
say; there ain't much o' anything but fire-wood in the sprangly one. I
shall end up over on the Foss lot next week, an' then I'm goin' right
up country quick 's I can, before the snow begins to melt."

John Packer's hands were both plunged deep into his side pockets, and
the contractor did not fail to see that he was moving his fingers
nervously.

"You don't want 'em blowin' down, breakin' all to pieces right on to
your grass-land. They'd spile pretty near an acre fallin' in some o'
them spring gales. Them old trees is awful brittle. If you're ever
calc'latin' to sell 'em, now's your time; the sprangly one's goin'
back a'ready. They take the goodness all out o' that part o' your
field, anyway," said Ferris, casting a sly glance as he spoke.

"I don't know's I care; I can maintain them two trees," answered
Packer, with spirit; but he turned and looked away, not at the
contractor.

"Come, I mean business. I'll tell you what I'll do: if you want to
trade, I'll give you seventy-five dollars for them two trees, and it's
an awful price. Buyin' known trees like them's like tradin' for a tame
calf; you'd let your forty-acre piece go without no fuss. Don't mind
what folks say. They're yourn, John; or ain't they?"

"I'd just as soon be rid on 'em; they've got to come down some time,"
said Packer, stung by this bold taunt. "I ain't goin' to give you a
present o' half their value, for all o' that."

"You can't handle 'em yourself, nor nobody else about here; there
ain't nobody got proper riggin' to handle them butts but me. I've got
to take 'em down for ye fur's I can see," said Ferris, looking sly,
and proceeding swiftly from persuasion to final arrangements. "It's
some like gittin' a tooth hauled; you kind o' dread it, but when 't is
done you feel like a man. I ain't said nothin' to nobody, but I hoped
you'd do what you was a-mind to with your own property. You can't
afford to let all that money rot away; folks won't thank ye."

"What you goin' to give for 'em?" asked John Packer impatiently.
"Come, I can't talk all day."

"I'm a-goin' to give you seventy-five dollars in bank-bills," said the
other man, with an air of great spirit.

"I ain't a-goin' to take