Silas dropped down on the bed, and Tug into a chair, where they remained a long time without speaking.
"What do you make of it?" Tug inquired at last.
"Nothing," Silas returned.
There was another long silence, which was finally broken by Tug remarking,—
"I make nothing of it, myself. We are agreed for once."
CHAPTER IV.
DAVY'S BEND.
It was generally agreed among the people of Davy's Bend—a thousand in number, the census said; six hundred they said themselves, for they changed the rule, and exaggerated their own situation unfavorably—that the town possessed more natural advantages than any other in the world.
They demonstrated this with great cleverness, by means of maps drawn on brown wrapping-paper inside of the stores, and, after looking at their maps, they triumphantly exclaimed, with a whack of their fists on the counter, "There are the figures; and figures won't lie." But in spite of their maps showing valleys occupied with railroads (which Capital neglected to build), Ben's City, below them, continued to prosper, whereas Davy's Bend continued to go steadily down the hill.