Mr. Swift looked at him with mingled disgust and respect, and tapped his foot impatiently on the bare floor.
"Let me see; it is situated?" proceeded the chief quietly.
"On the southeast shore of the Great Gopher lake." Mr. Ticks finished the sentence mechanically.
"Ah! I remember. Its population?"
"Twenty-nine thousand five hundred and fifty-two. It increases at the rate of thirty a day."
"Exactly so! It is—?"
"Just two years nine months and twelve days old."
"To be sure. Its property—?"
"Is one hundred and sixty-four million dollars, in round numbers."
"Of course. Its industries are—?"