Fitz read in their faces these mental processes, and was more determined than ever to break up at once what he called "the settlement."
"Are you sho', Colonel," inquired Ker-foot, catching at straws, "that the coal lands lie entirely on yo' father's property? Does not the Barbour lan' jine yo's on the hill?"
"I am not positively sho', suh, but I have always understood that what we call the coal hills belonged to my father. You see," said the colonel, turning to the agent, "this grade of wild lan' is never considered of much value with us, and a few hundred acres mo' or less is never insisted on among old families of our standin' whose estates jine."
Yancey expanded his vest, and said authoritatively that he was quite sure the coal hills were on the Barbour property. He had shot partridges over that land many a time.
The agent, who had listened calmly to the discussion, remarked dryly that until the colonel definitely ascertained whether he had any lands to sell it would be a useless waste of time to make the trip.
"Quite so," said Kerfoot, raising the emptied decanter to his eye, and replacing it again with a look at Yancey expressive of the contempt in which he held a man who could commit so mean an act.
"But, Colonel," said Fitz, "can't you telegraph to-morrow and find out?"
"To whom, my clear Fitz? It would take a week to get the clerk of the co'te to look through the records. Nobody at Bar-hour's knows."
"Does Miss Nancy know?"
The colonel shook his head dubiously.
Fitz's face suddenly lighted up as he started from his seat, and caught the colonel by the arm.