"Then you're the very man I want. Talk fast. I'm bound to go back on that thar boat."
Thus urged, Walter began the inventory on his fingers. "There's six two-story dwelling houses, all framed, ready to go up."
"Whoop-ee! how big?"
"About 24x36, high-studded, pitched roof, luthern windows. The rest is building stuff—all of it—sills, joists, rough and planed boards, matched boards——"
"Any shingles?" the impatient man broke in.
"Yes, a big lot; and clapboards too."
"Talk enough. Whar's the owner?"
"You're talking to him now," said Charley quickly.
"Well, then, I reck'n we'd better have a little light on the subject, hadn't we?" the stranger suggested.
Upon this hint Charley led the way to the cabin, where the parties took a good look at each other. The stranger glanced over the manifest, laid a big, brawny hand upon it, then, turning to Walter, but without betraying surprise at his youthful appearance, said pointedly, "Name your price, cash down, stranger, for the lot. I'm here for a dicker."