“No. But the road will need the whole strip of hills for timber. They’ll cut off what is standing and then they’ll stock the whole country with cedar, for ties. That’s all the land’s good for, anyway.”
Jeffrey Whiting’s mouth opened for an answer to this, but his mother’s sharp, warning glance stopped him. He understood that it was his place to listen and learn. There would be time enough for questions and arguments afterward.
“Now these people here won’t understand what eminent domain means,” the big man went on. “I’m going to make it clear to you, young man. I know who you are and I know more about you than you think. I’m going to make it clear to you and then I’m going to send you out among them to make them see it. They wouldn’t understand me and they wouldn’t believe me. You can make them see it.”
“How do you know that I’ll believe you?” asked Jeffrey.
“You’ve got brains. You don’t have to believe. I can show it to you.”
Jeffrey Whiting was a big, strong boy, well accustomed to taking responsibilities upon himself. He had never been afraid of anything and this perhaps had given him more than the average boy’s good opinion of himself. Nothing could have appealed to him more subtly than this man’s bluff, curt flattery. He was being met man to man by a man of the world. No boy is proof against the compliment that he is a man, to be dealt with as a man and equal of older, more experienced men. Jeffrey was ready to listen.
“Do you know what an option is?” the man began again.
“Of course I do.”
“I thought so,” said Rogers, in a manner that seemed to confirm his previous judgment of Jeffrey’s brains. “Now then, the railroad has got 52 to have all these farms from Beaver River right up to the head of Little Tupper Lake. I say these people won’t know what eminent domain means. You’re going to tell them. It means that they can sell at the railroad’s price or they can hold off and a referee will be appointed to name a price. The railroad will have a big say in appointing those referees. Do you understand me?”