"You're foreclosin' on me?" The words came slowly and with a hollow gulp.
Uncle Sebastian's lips went straight and hard. "Unless ye'll deed th' place to me, Hiram."
Another pause, while the low wind whined in the treetops and Ripley Creek went gurgling and sucking through the latticed trunks in the pile of drift.
"What did you tell me when I gave the mortgage, Uncle Sebastian?"
The reproach in Hiram's voice did not move the arbiter. "I know what I told ye, Hiram. I told ye, ye needn't worry—that I wouldn't foreclose—that I wasn't speculatin' when I lent th' money on th' place. Jest th' same, Hiram, I'm foreclosin' on ye."
Uncle Sebastian eyed the young man keenly. The first shock past, Hiram seemed now to be turning the matter over with just deliberation.
"I reckon I know what you're up to, Uncle Sebastian," he said at last. "We've talked the matter over too many times for me to misconstrue your motives. You're thinkin' that I'll amount to somethin' if I get away from here."
"I reckon ye've said it, Hiram." Uncle Sebastian voiced this with great relief.
"And you're foreclosin' on me to force me to go."
"Eggzackly, Hiram. I'm proud that ye interpret my motive."