"Stephen Chapman."
"Mr. Stephen Chapman, eh?" The lawyer wrote it on a scrap of paper and thrust it carelessly into a pigeon-hole of the old walnut desk. "Well, there ought to be a tidy sum coming to you, sir; yes, sir, a tidy sum. Lumber is fetching money just now, and you tell me the Catspaw is loaded high."
"Yes, sir, she's loaded up to her rails. Do you suppose we'll get a thousand dollars?"
"A thousand dollars, eh?" Mr. Hyatt beamed broadly and nodded until all his chins in sight shook. "Yes, you might look for a thousand dollars, boys. It isn't sense to get your expectations too high, but I guess you can safely bank on a thousand. Oh, yes, a thousand isn't unreasonable. Well, you drop around tomorrow and maybe there'll be something to report. I'll get right to work, gentlemen. Good afternoon!"
"Funny old whale, isn't he?" commented Joe when they were once more on the street. "Suppose he knows what he's talking about?"
"Why not?" asked Wink. "He struck me as being rather a canny customer."
"Well, he said a thousand dollars," replied Joe. "That's a lot of money, isn't it, for an old schooner like the Catspaw?"
"It isn't much for the schooner and the cargo, too," said Steve. "I'm wondering if it oughtn't to be a lot more; say fifteen hundred. You see, a schooner like that costs quite a lot of money when it's new. And then, as Mr. Hyatt said, lumber is high right now, and there's a pile of it on board."
"A thousand will suit me all right," said Joe. "A twelfth of a thousand is—is—"
"A thirteenth you mean," corrected Steve. "Don't forget Neil."