"Nineteen next month."
"Old enough ter know better, eh?"
"What do you mean?"
"Better than ter go diggin' fer—-well, gold, in these 'ere parts."
A blush overspread Ralph's freckled face, but it faded as quickly as it had come, and he continued to stare at Bill Terrill.
"I wasn't digging for gold," he said quietly.
"Of course not! I was only joshing you, boy! Say, what I wanted ter see you about is this: there's some dispute between the what-d'-you-call-uns?—-executors?—-of your dad's will and Old Man Perkins, who owns the farm next ter yours, about the boundary lines. Old Man Perkins, he claims——-"
"He has no claim whatever!" interrupted Ralph, vehemently. "That old dispute was almost settled before my father's death. Dad had our farm surveyed, charted, and the boundaries marked. I can show you the stone on the northwest corner; it's only a few yards away, over there."
"Well, Perkins is havin' his acres surveyed now," said Terrill, "an' I'm one of the crew that's doing the job fer him. I'm axeman. You see, I've reformed consid'r'ble since——-since last summer, and I j'ined a surveyin' crew; axeman now, rodman later, if I'm good, an'———-"
"But why did you want to see me? Was it about this boundary question?"