"There—that's better," said he, a relieved smile creeping about the upturned corners of his mouth. "I told you I didn't—I couldn't—have done it alone—you see, Ben, I am making three trips a week to Gulf port instead of two, and carrying enough general merchandise back to pay expenses," and then turning his chair so as to look squarely at me, he continued. "It is pouring prosperity, though we are making a willing, patriotic sacrifice while doing it, and we must hustle like sixty until the rain is over."
I looked at him more astonished, as I felt sure something bigger was coming. Was there no limit?
"We are making money pretty fast now, but this won't last—I know now the logs in the river will disappear soon after we get at them again, and you know we have got to look ahead. I can buy a tract of timber up there at Gulfport—cheap—enough timber to keep us sawing for years. Now don't look so alarmed—it will take a lot of money, but we've got to do it if it is possible. I've opened a bank account here and talked to the president about it—but everything now is going into Liberty bonds and you can't blame them—but it's got to be done, Ben," he repeated in a tense undertone, bringing his hard hand down on my knee with a loud slap.
Looking at him in wonder for a moment, I finally asked,
"How much will it take, Hiram?"
"Now don't fall over when I tell you—that's why I got a big chair with a soft cushion, so that you could sustain a shock once in a while without injury. Ben, it will take about a hundred thousand dollars to get it, but it's got to come," he ended, passing his hand rapidly over his chin as though glad it was out.
"You have not forgotten, Hiram, that you must settle with the railroad for the engine in the Fearsome and the sawmill, too?"
"I know we have, but I've got enough in the bank for that and more besides," he replied quickly. "What do you think, is it possible?" he asked, making me feel he was not to be resisted.
"I don't know, Hiram; you are placing a pretty big order—we'll see—I don't believe I told you just how much I sold that barrel for, did I?" turning to him with an affected smile of derision.
"Yes, I know you will have the laugh on me as long as you live about that barrel; in fact, I will laugh myself every time I think of it even if I am at a funeral, but that couldn't happen again in a million years," he replied, getting up and pacing the room, finally halting in the opposite corner, where he catapulted a question as though he might be coming along with it.