They found him in the post-office and store which he owned. He was postmaster, and also, as they learned later, justice of the peace, clerk of the township, and road inspector. Besides being the leading merchant of the town, he bought furs and ginseng, dealt in local mortgages, occasionally traded in timber, and had an interest in a mica mine that was trying to succeed near the village. This last speculation seemed to indicate a sort of sporting spirit, which was perhaps what had induced him to lend money on so risky a security as a yard of bees, even at ten per cent. interest. He was a little, withered man, more than sixty years of age, with white hair, a straggly beard, gimlet eyes, and a not unkindly mouth.
“Well, here’s the young people that’s bought the bees,” he said, wrinkling up his face into a dry smile. “You expect to make a fortune outer ’em, hey, young lady? Well, I don’t say as you won’t. But you won’t get what you expect to get. Folks never does, not in anything.”
“Oh, we don’t expect much, Mr. Farr,” said Alice, laughing.
“Now, don’t tell me that. You know you do. But it’s always best to expect nothing and then be surprised and thankful. Now whenever you’re in town, just come and see me, and I’ll do what I can to see you fixed right.”
“I’m sure you’re very kind—” Bob began.
“No, I ain’t, neither. Don’t you look for no kindness from me. I want to help you to get along, so’s you can pay me my money. Kindness and business is separate things, and I always keep ’em separate. As I told you, young man, if you don’t live up to the terms of the mortgage I’ll seize you up the minute the law allows me. Now you both come along home with me and have supper.”
They had supper with Mr. Farr and his wife and slept at the hotel. Next morning they found their freight boxes awaiting them at the station, and hired a team to haul them to the apiary. It was the same driver who had taken Carl out two days before, and he mentioned the fact that Carl had borrowed his dog to keep him company till the others came. As they were having their boxes and bales loaded on the wagon, Mr. Farr strolled up to see them start, and he again impressed upon them his intention of being absolutely relentless in case they failed to keep to the strict terms of the sale.
“And the old fellow means it, too,” said Bob, when they were off. “He’ll sell us up in a minute if we don’t produce the cash on the first of August. I fancy we needn’t fear him, but what a wretched old skinflint he is!”
“I don’t know,” said Alice, laughing. “I rather like him.”
It was fourteen miles to the bee farm, and after the first mile from the village the road grew terrible. In some places it was of corduroy logs. It went up and down steep hills, and for long stretches it was strewn with large, loose rocks, which made Alice’s tinware clash and jangle in the boxes as the wagon lurched along. It was impossible to go faster than a slow walk, and even then the riding was so rough that Bob and Alice got down and walked for much of the way.