happens along and tells you there may be oil on it? Bah!"
"Keep your temper," counseled Fluss in a low tone. "Well, rather than see two ladies lose a sale," he said with forced cheerfulness, "We will make you an offer of three thousand dollars. Money talks louder than fair words."
"I'll give you five thousand, cash," Mr. Gordon spoke quietly, but Betty bounced about on the sofa in delight.
Fluss leaped to his feet and brought his fist smashing down on the table.
"Six thousand!" he cried fiercely. "We're buying this farm. We'll give you six thousand dollars, ladies."
"Seven thousand," said Mr. Gordon conversationally. He did not shift his position, but his keen eyes followed every movement of the rascally pair. He said afterward that he was afraid of gun play.
"Oh—oh, my goodness!" stammered Miss Hope. "I can't seem to think."
"You don't have to, Madam," Fluss assured her, his immaculate gray tie under one ear and his clothing rumpled from the heat and excitement. "Sell us your farm. We'll give you ten thousand dollars. That's the last word. Ten thousand for this mud hole. Here's a pen—sign this!"
