Another part of Dunston Porter’s letter referred to the clearing up of a tract of land on the outskirts of Crumville which belonged jointly to the Porters, Mr. Wadsworth and an estate which was represented by Mr. Basswood. The real estate dealer had said that now would be a good time in which to lay out streets through the tract and sell off the plots for building. There were several new factories being erected down along the railroad tracks, and the workingmen employed in these concerns would want homes.
“The tract has not been used for a number of years,” wrote Dunston Porter; “and during the past six summers a band of gypsies has been making its encampment there. We had quite some trouble getting the gypsies to evacuate, and a couple of them became so ugly that we had to threaten them with arrest. But they have gone at last, and we have told them that they cannot come back. We expect to lay out the streets and the plots of ground immediately, and then Mr. Basswood is going to get ready and hold a big auction sale of the various parcels. All of us hope to make quite some money by the transaction.”
“Hurrah for the auction sale of building lots!” cried Dave. “I hope they make a barrel of money. Wouldn’t it be fun to be there and see the various plots sold off?”
“I went to a sale like that in our home town years ago,” returned Roger. “They had a big tent put up and furnished refreshments, and a small brass band played selections. The auctioneer was a very gifted talker, and he made a wonderful address to the assemblage, telling them of all the advantages to be had by buying the lots. Then the agents got busy and the lots sold off like hot cakes, some for cash and some on the instalment plan. At that time there wasn’t a building of any kind on the land; but less than a year later there were half a dozen rows of houses and half that number of barns and garages, and now that end of the town is quite thriving.”
“I’m sure Crumville is bound to grow,” returned Dave. “Just look at what it was when I was a small boy and what it is to-day! We have three or four times as many people and stores, and we have a new railroad station with a good many more trains, and two moving picture theaters, two new schools, another church, and several new factories. And not only that, the business men have become so wideawake that they are gathering in the trade for miles around—trade that used to go to other towns.”
“Well, I hope it does grow, Dave. That will make it so much better for your folks and the Wadsworths, and also the Basswoods.”
On the morning following this conversation Dave was preparing to go out with the others when one of the clerks from the office came to him with the information that Mr. Obray wanted to see him at once. He found the manager of the construction camp deep in some papers strewn over his desk.
“Porter, would you like to go on a special errand for me over to Orella?” the manager asked abruptly. “I’ve got some important papers that I wish delivered, and I want to see to it that they are placed in the hands of just the right party.”
“Why, yes, Mr. Obray, I’ll be glad to do whatever you want me to,” answered Dave quickly. “It’s quite a trip though, so I’ve heard,” he added with a smile.
“I know that, Porter. But the trail is a good one all the way; and if you follow the signboards you can’t go astray. You can take a good horse, and you had better take something to eat along, too. If you start inside of the next hour, you ought to be able to get back before dark. Of course, if you have any difficulty in finding the right party, you can stay in Orella all night and come back to-morrow.”