“Why don’t you like Mr. Meyer?”
“Why should I like Mr. Meyer?”
“Well, he likes you. Doesn’t that a little—just a little—No? Well, then, there’s another reason. He told me he thought you were so plucky that you ought to be helped.” As even this generous sentiment seemed not to melt the lady, “You’d better be nice to him,” said Hildegarde lightly, smiling in her effort to make her companion a little cheerfuller. “He told me he could get you a Nome lot that you could sell by and by for $2000.”
“Did he say what I was to pay for it?”
“You don’t pay anything, that’s what’s so beautiful.”
“Really! Why doesn’t he get it for himself?”
“He’ll have one, too. Everybody will who knows—as he does—which are the forfeited ones. The thing is, you must live on the lot. Then you acquire squatter’s sovereignty, and you can sell it for $2000.”
“I see; and how much am I to give Mr. Meyer?”
“Oh, you are suspicious! He takes a real interest. He wants to ‘put you on to’ some unrecorded mining property he knows about.”
“Yes.”