"Too much note," I whispered.
"I'm awful sorry, but I've done everything I could," said Mr. Barnes.
"Ain't there somebody that'll take another mortgage?—it ought to be safe now," my uncle suggested.
"Money is so tight it can't be done. The bank has got all the money an' Grimshaw owns the bank. I've tried and tried, but I'll make you safe. I'll give you a mortgage until I can turn 'round."
So I saw how Rodney Barnes, like other settlers in Lickitysplit, had gone into bondage to the landlord.
"How much do you owe on this place?" Barnes asked.
"Seven hundred an' fifty dollars," said my uncle.
"Is it due?"
"It's been due a year an' if I have to pay that note I'll be short my interest."
"God o' Israel! I'm scairt," said Barnes.