“Nothing rash, Tom, I hope!” she said, apprehensively.
“No, not exactly that. But I’m going to see Mr. Doolittle, and ask him a thing or two.”
Mrs. Taylor was surprised at the change in her son. He was very much more of a man than when he left two years before. He seemed very capable.
This, of course, was due to the West Point training. It tends to make a lad stand on his own feet, for the Academy trains him with the idea of some day having him handle large bodies of men; and to rule over others one must first learn to govern himself.
“Let me see that paper, Mother,” Tom said, when they had talked the matter over a little longer.
She gave it to him, and he studied it earnestly. It was, as she had said, a copy, or draft, of a deed of trust, for the valuable land on which one end of the railroad bridge stood.
“I’ll see Doolittle about this,” Tom decided.
However, he did not carry out his intention that day. He was tired with his trip, and he wanted to be in the best condition when he met the man who he had reason to suspect was a clever schemer, if not a downright swindler.
Tom spent some time in going about town, renewing acquaintance with his former school chums. He had much to tell them of his life at West Point, and he, in turn, listened to much of interest.
Then, having ascertained from a local lawyer a general idea of how deeds of trust were executed and carried out, Tom called on Mr. Doolittle.