"So yez are the Directors of the Big Draw Railway, eh?" he drawled. "I thought mebbe yez were government heelers. An' yez want to buy my place? Well, that's interestin'."
"Is the gravel good?" Tom again wrote.
"Good," Abner mused, as he carefully studied the words. "Well, I never heard anythin' to the contrary. It was behavin' itself the last time I saw it. It's never done any swearin' or cheatin' to my knowledge. It minds its own bizness, which is more'n I kin say of most people."
These words caused the men in the car to laugh uproariously. Abner seemed surprised at their merriment, and looked enquiringly at the spokesman.
"Have yez all been drinkin'?" he asked. "Better leave it alone, young men. It's bad fer the health."
"We've not been drinking," Tom wrote. "We're as dry as old Parson Jackson. How much gravel have you and how deep is it?"
"Let me see," and Abner scratched his head. "Oh I guess fifty acres, more or less, good gravel. An' it's deep, too. Why, it's as deep as any government grafter ye ever saw, an' as unsartin. It's so shifty ye jist never know what it's goin' to do next."
"Will you sell?" was the next question written.
"Sell? Well, that all depends. I was thinkin' of keepin' the place, as I might want it several hundred years from now. But mebbe it 'ud be as well to git clear of it when the chance comes. If I'm to have a mansion in the sky, as I've heard about, no doubt there'll be lots of ground around the buildin', enough anyway, fer my purpose."
The men in the auto looked at one another in surprise.