“Why, the old man gave me an option on the place, and I risked a twenty dollar bill on it. The option had—er—a year to run; dated February tenth last; and I've decided to take the option up,” said Mr. Pepper, his shrewd little eyes dancing in their gaze from Hiram to the old lady and back again.
CHAPTER XVIII. A HEAVY CLOUD
Now, a rattlesnake is poisonous, but he gives fair warning; a swamp moccasin lies in wait for the unwary and strikes without sign or sound. Into Hiram Strong's troubled mind came the thought that Mr. Pepper was striking like his prototype of the swamps.
A snaky sort of a man was Mr. Pepper—sly, a hand-rubber as he talked, with a little, sickly grin playing about his thin, mean mouth. When he opened it Hiram almost expected to see a forked tongue run out.
At least, of one thing was the young farmer sure: Mr. Pepper was no more to be trusted than a serpent. Therefore, he did not take a word that the man said on trust.
He recovered from the shock which the statement of the real estate man had caused, and he uttered no expression of either surprise, or trouble. Mrs. Atterson he could see was vastly disturbed by the statement; but somebody had to keep a cool bead in this matter.
“Let's see your option,” Hiram demanded, bruskly.
“Why—if Mrs. Atterson wishes to see it——”
“You show it to Hi, you Pepper-man,” snapped the old lady. “I wouldn't do a thing without his advice.”