“Then I'll be gray,” said Jerome. His handsome young face, full of that stern ardor which was a principle of his nature, confronted the lawyer's, lean and dry, deepening its shrewdly quizzical lines about mouth and eyes.
Means looked sharply at Jerome. “What has started you in this? What makes you think it will be a good thing?” he asked.
“No saw-mill nearer than Westbrook, good water-power, straight course of brook, below the falls can float logs down to the mill from above, then down to Dale. People in Dale are paying heavy prices for lumber on account of freight; then the railroad will go through Dale within five years, and they will want sleepers, and—”
“Perhaps they won't take them from you, young man.”
“I have been to Squire Lennox, in Dale; he is the prime mover in the railroad, and will be a director, if not the president; he has given me the refusal of the job.”
“Where will you get your logs?”
“I have bargained with two parties.”
“Five years is a long time ahead.”
“It won't be, if I wait long enough.”
“You are a damned fool not to borrow the money. The railroad may go through in another year, and all the standing wood in the county may burn down,” said Means, quietly.