“Parfitly satisfied—so long’s it’s in cash.”
“I agree to give it then.”
“All right, strenger! a bargain’s a bargain. You kin shell out the dollars; and I’ll gie ye pursession afore this gentleman—who’ll witness it in writin’, ef you like.”
“I want no writing. I can trust to your word.”
It was no flattery: I felt at the moment that the squatter—rudely as he had acted—was still possessed of an honourable principle; and I knew that, under the circumstances, his word would not only be as good as his bond, but better! I made no hesitation, therefore; but, counting out the money, placed it upon the stump—alongside that curious document, impaled there by the blade of the squatter’s knife.
“When ’ud ye like to take pursession?” asked the outgoing tenant.
“At your convenience,” I replied, wishing to behave as courteously as possible.
“It won’t take me long to move. My furniter ain’t very cumbersome; an’ I kud let ye in to-morrow, ef ’t wan’t that I hev some unexpected bizness with my friend hyur. Say day arter the morrow? Ef ye’ll kum then, ye’ll find me ready to deliver up. Will that answer for ye?”
“Admirably!” was my reply.
“All right, then! I’d ask ye in, but thur’s nothin’ to gie you—’ceptin’ that piece o’ deer-meat, an’ it’s raw. Besides, strenger, I’ve some partickler bizness jest now, that I’m ’bleeged to see to.”