There was a stop.
“Seven thousand I’m offered!” cried Jim suddenly. “Seven thousand:––any advance on seven thousand? Seven thousand:––going once,––seven thousand,––going twice;––for the third and last time–––”
“Seven thoosand and five hunnerrr, and no’ a currrrdy mairrr,” put in McAdam, pulling at his long whiskers.
Mawson stuck his hands in his pockets and started off.
“I’m through!” he remarked.
“Sold for seven thousand five hundred dollars, cash,” concluded Jim, with a friendly nod to McAdam, who rubbed his hands together and grinned.
“The fule!––he doesna ken a barrrgain when he sees it. This rrranch is worrrth ten if rrrightly managed, and no’ by a wheen schule-bairrrns that would plant tatties upside doon. Come awa’ owerrr tae my place and we’ll put this on paperrr.”
Jim drew up the agreement in McAdam’s kitchen at three o’clock that morning, got McAdam’s cheque for seven thousand five hundred dollars and, despite the old fellow’s cordial invitation to spend the remainder of the night with him, Jim and Phil set out again for Mrs. Clunie’s.
“We’re making money,” said Phil.