There was a sneering expression on Claymore’s face, but he said nothing, and they returned to the city.
Mr. Judson found new trouble there. He met one of his old church members on the street and shook hands with him.
“I didn’t know you were in this part of the country, Mr. Folsom,” said the clergyman.
“I suppose not,” snapped Mr. Folsom, in reply, “and I presume you’d have liked it better if I had stayed away.”
“Why! what do you mean?”
“I came out here to look into the oil company I put my money in. That’s what I mean.”
“Well——”
“There isn’t any well. There ought to be several, but there isn’t one, and, what’s more, there won’t be any, and what’s more yet, you know it.”
“Why! Brother Folsom——”