“Well!––I should worry about a little thing like that. Man,––I’ve troubles enough of my own to contend with.”
“How’s that?” asked Phil, looking up. “You haven’t been doing anything likely to get you into hot water?”
“No––father confessor,––excepting maybe this:”
It was Jim’s turn to throw over a piece of paper which he picked up from the bureau.
Phil looked it over.
It was an Agreement for Sale, between James Shallingford Dalton and James Langford, in which the former accepted from the latter nine horses––receipt of which was thereby acknowledged––as first payment of five hundred 242 dollars on his Brantlock Ranch of sixty acres, with barns and shack, two dray-horses, one dray and one and a half tons of sacked potatoes; total purchase price thirty-five hundred dollars; second payment of two thousand dollars to be made within seven days, the balance in six months thereafter; prompt payment on due dates to be the essence of the agreement.
Phil glanced over at Jim, then turned up his nose in disgust.
“Gee!––and I thought you were a lawyer.”
“So did I!” returned Jim ruefully.
“But what in the name of all that’s lovely made you sign an agreement like that?”