“An' will you go right away—to-morrow mornin'?”
Clay nodded.
“Here's fifty of it,” said Jud—“the Company is in a hurry. We want the survey by this day week. Let me see, this is Sat'dy—I'll come next Sat'dy night.”
Clay's face flushed. Never before had he made a hundred dollars in a week.
“I'll go at once.”
“To-morrow at daylight?” asked Jud, rising.
Clay looked at him curiously. There was something in the tone of the man that struck him as peculiar, but Jud went on in an easy way.
“You see we must have it quick. All our winter wood to run the mill is there an' we can't start into cordin' till it's surveyed an' the deed's passed. Sorry to hurry you”—
Clay promised to start at daylight and Jud left.
He looked at his watch. It was late. He would like to tell Helen about it—he said aloud: “Making a hundred dollars a week. If I could only keep up that—I'd—I'd—”