"Ain't that a high figger?"
"Perhaps so."
"Come, young feller, you don't seem social. Can't you invite me aboard?"
"I don't think you would be paid for coming," said Bob, more and more unfavorably impressed.
"Oh, I don't mind. My time ain't valuable. I guess I'll come."
The stranger stepped across the gang-plank, which Bob had laid from the boat to the shore, and entered without an invitation. Bob was tempted to order him off, but the intruder appeared much stronger than himself; and while he was alone it seemed politic to submit to the disagreeable necessity of entertaining his unwelcome visitor.
The latter walked from end to end of the boat, examining for himself without asking permission, or appearing to feel the need of any. He opened the bins and counted them, while Bob looked on uneasily.
"I say, young feller, you've got a smart lot of wheat here."
"Yes," said Bob, briefly.
"Got a thousand bushels, I reckon?"