"Well, the little piece of land we're working on now contains about 2,500,000 acres."
"That's the Chippewa land, isn't it?" asked the secretary.
"Yes, all of it."
"What's Chippewa land?" queried Roger.
"It's land the Chippewa Indians ceded to the government to be held in trust and disposed of for their own benefit. It's worth just about nothing now, but when the land is all drained it'll be a mighty valuable section of the State."
"I saw a report on the crops from some of that reclaimed land," said Mitchon, "and it certainly was calculated to make the worked-out Eastern farms sit up. Well, I suppose I must get back, so I'll wish you good luck, Roger, if I don't see you again. You start soon, do you not, Mr. Field?"
"To-morrow morning."
"So soon? That means hustling."
"No, Mr. Mitchon, everything's ready, I reckon."
"Well," replied the other, "I hope you'll have a pleasant summer, and, Roger, you write and let me know how you like it. Good-by." But he had hardly gone three or four steps from the door when he turned back suddenly and said, "By the way, Roger, there's something I wish you would do for me."