"James Marney," said Philip, reading the signature. "I thought I knew every name in the county, but—"
"But I come from the next county," said the young man. "Caleb'll be disappointed not to see me, but this young woman says he's gone East. What'll you gimme for the saddle an' bridle? I'm goin' to the city an' can't use 'em there."
The equipments named were in fair condition, so after some "dickering" Philip exchanged six dollars for them, and the young man sauntered off in the direction of Claybanks' single "saloon."
"'A fool and his money,'" quoted Philip to Grace; "but as he didn't heed Caleb's injunction, I don't suppose any word of mine would have had any effect. Mark my words: I'll clear twenty-five at least on that transaction within a week, for there's a city dealer here now to buy a string of young horses. That forty acres of walnut trees is ours, too, and cheap enough to hold until winter, when labor will be cheap; then I'll have the trees cut and hauled to the creek, to be rafted out when the overflow comes."
Grace looked at her husband admiringly, contemplatively, exultantly, and said:—
"Who'd have thought it a year ago?"
"Thought what, ladybird?"
"Oh, that you would have blossomed into a keen-eyed, quick, successful trader."
"It does seem odd, doesn't it? There's more profit in to-day's transactions than my city salary for a month amounted to. Ah, well; live and learn. If you'll keep shop a few minutes longer, I'll put both horses into the barn and go up to the court-house and see if Weefer's title to the forty acres of walnut is clear."
In a few moments he returned with some papers in his hands and a countenance more than ordinarily cheerful, so that Grace said:—