“I was told,” pursued the first speaker, screwing up one eye and grinning at Hiram, “that you broke Sam's gun over his head and chased Pete a mile. That right, son?”
“You will get no information from me,” returned Hiram, tartly.
“Why, Pete ought to be big enough to lick you alone, Strong,” continued the tantalizer. “Hey, Pete! Don't sneak out. Come and tell us why you didn't give this chap the lickin' you said you was going to?”
Pete only glared at him and slunk out of the store. Hiram turned his back on the whole crowd and waited at the end of the counter for Mr. Schell. The storekeeper was a tall, portly man, with a gray mustache and side-whiskers, and a high bald forehead.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Strong?” he asked, finally having got rid of the customers who preceded Hiram.
Hiram, in a low voice, explained his mission. Schell nodded his head at once.
“Oh, yes,” he said; “I remember about the option. I had forgotten it, for a fact; but Pepper was in here yesterday talking about it. He had been to your house.”
“Then, sir, to the best of your remembrance, the option is all right?”
“Oh, certainly! Pollock witnessed it, and I put my seal on it. Yes, sir; Pepper can make the old lady sell. It's too bad, if she wants to remain there; but the price he is to pay isn't so bad——”
“You have no reason to doubt the validity of the option?” cried Hiram, in desperation.