"Yes—yes—but how did you do it?" he demanded.
Somehow at that moment it occurred to me that it might be best to tell the whole incredible story of the sale of the barrel of color which had been a standing joke between us. It was one of those extremely rare things that could happen only in war times, and I thought the flog of resistance better for him than the stimulant of easy success.
"Well, I induced them to cut their claim down some——"
"Yes—yes," he interrupted; "get to the point—how did you do it?"
"Well," I began again, "this morning I was too busy to tell you that a man came all the way from New York to buy our barrel of steel filings,—he's been waiting about all the time we have been gone on our trip—when I got through with him I had enough money to release the Fearsome and——"
"Ben," he interrupted, his eyes glittering, "you are an infernal—no, I won't say liar, because I don't believe you would lie—but you are romancing now to make me feel good, but——"
"All right, then, have it your way—all you need to know is that the Fearsome is released and you are free to do with her as you like—but just now I advise a shave for you and some stimulating food—for instance a beefsteak as big as——"
"Ben, it's got to be as big as the state of New Hampshire this time and as thick as the crust of the earth——" He interrupted himself by springing over the chair, as I thought to thump me on the back, but instead he grabbed my hand affectionately. He craved relief from a long strain; my information took effect upon him like the champagne he used to take, and at that moment refused to consider what it cost or its ultimate effect.