Sol admitted that all things were indeed possible, although he had his doubts about the probability of a great many he could name. But he was wise enough to know that one must agree with a man if one desires to get into his warm favor, and it was his purpose on that ride to milk Judge Little of whatever information tickling his vanity, as an ant tickles an aphis, would cause him to yield.
“Well, he’s got a right smart property waitin’ him when he comes,” said Sol, feeling important and comfortable just to talk of all that Isom left.
“A considerable,” agreed the judge.
“Say forty or fifty thousand worth, heh?”
“Nearer seventy or eighty, the way land’s advancing in this county,” corrected the judge.
Sol whistled his amazement. There was no word in his vocabulary as eloquent as that.
“Well, all I got to say is that if it was me he left it to, it wouldn’t take no searchin’ to find me,” he said. “Is he married?”
“Very likely he is married,” said the judge, with that portentous repression and caution behind his words which some people are able to use with such mysterious effect.
“Shades of catnip!” said Sol.
They rode on a little way in silence, Sol being quite exhausted on account of his consuming surprise over what he believed himself to be finding out. Presently he returned to his prying, and asked: