"I will cheerfully give you her address, but it won't be necessary, for I represent her."
"You!" exclaimed the stranger incredulously.
"Yes; and I am going out to Centerville now as her agent. This Jackson, who is her tenant, has been urging her to sell him the farm for some time. He has offered a sum larger than the farm would be worth but for the discovery of petroleum, but has taken good care not to speak of this."
"How much does he offer?"
"Five thousand dollars."
"The rascal!" He offers five thousand, and expects us to pay him fifty thousand dollars for his bargain. What an unmitigated swindle it would have been if he had carried out his scheme!"
"Perhaps you would like to see his last letter?" said Ben.
"I should. I want to see what the old rascal has to say for himself."
Ben took from his pocket the letter in question, and put it into the hands of his new acquaintance.
It was dated at Centerville, October 21. It was written in a cramped hand, showing that the farmer was not accustomed to letter-writing.