CHAPTER XVI
Standing in the middle of the floor Hiram read the missive several times. He seemed amazed as well as incredulous. Finally, as he read it with evident desire to grasp its meaning thoroughly, his face lighted up with joy. "Bully stuff!" he exclaimed. Then he read it aloud:
"The larger sample of color received. The market just now is particularly bare of this grade. Can get you unusual price of a dollar a pound. If satisfactory ship Morgan Line, send memo. of weight and will forward check at once.
"Morgenstein & Brun."
"Then it's not steel filings—you never told me," he said finally, laughingly grasping my shoulders.
"You insisted it was filings, your railroad insisted it was junk, and you sold it for junk as instructed, so why the argument?"
"No argument at all, Ben; the Morgan Line steamer sails to-morrow. Sell the stuff and buy a boat. I've saved some money, but boats are scarce and high. I haven't enough—what d'ye say, eh?"
"You haven't found a boat to buy yet, and maybe you will not need one—besides, if Morgenstein & Brun offer a dollar a pound and are in a hurry, it may be worth more—I only asked them for an analysis to know for certain what it was. I didn't ask for a market," I insisted formally.
"But you may miss the only chance—and—we need the money. We've got to have a boat," he said, visibly disappointed.
"So far we are out less than a ten-dollar bill and can afford to take a chance—as I say, we must first decide definitely that a boat is necessary, and then the hardest part comes—everything from a row-boat up is working overtime now."
"Maybe you are right, but if it was up to me I would sell it so infernally quick it would make 'em dizzy," he replied, manifestly consumed with the single idea of releasing himself from suspicion.