“Why, yes. I guess you’d call it that,” Bob returned smiling. “We thought we’d come down and see how the new cutting was going.”
“Well, it’s goin’ fine, as you can see. Don’t think I ever saw better timber. Lots of those trees’ll scale close to a thousand feet.”
“I think you’re right there,” Bob replied slowly, letting his eyes glance at the fallen monarchs. “They’ll help us out a lot on our contract,” he added easily.
“On your contract!” the big man exploded, the look of anger returning to his face.
“Why, yes,” Bob said quietly. “Why not? They belong to Father, you know.”
“I know nothin’ of the kind,” Big Ben shouted. “Them trees belong ter me and I’ve got the papers to prove it.”
“I doubt it, Mr. Donahue,” Bob said. “But as I told you once before, that is a matter for the courts to decide. But what we really came down for was to tell you that Father’s deed to this tract has been found.”
“What!” the big man shouted, so loudly that several of the workmen nearby glanced up. “I don’t believe a word of it,” he declared in a slightly lower tone.
“And we don’t ask you to,” Bob said calmly. “Having told you the facts, we consider that we have done all that could be expected of us. It is immaterial to us whether or not you believe it and whether or not you keep on with the cutting. Of course the more you get down the less Father’ll have to cut, and if he were not an honest man as well as a generous one, he’d have let you go on cutting for the rest of the winter before letting you know about the deed.”
Bob had hoped that the explanation would serve to mollify the man but it seemed to have exactly the opposite effect. Big Ben’s face grew darker and darker as he listened to the boy, and he clinched and unclinched his hands in a nervous effort to control himself.