"Sit down, Jim, and keep cool. This is to be a bargain, and bargains made in cold blood are surest kept."
Jim resumed his seat and stared in amazement at Gill, who, sure of his man, seemed to take interest only in the shoe-strings he held before him.
"Guess I'll send these to Squire Parsons with your compliments, Jim, as a hint that we'll string him up."
A poor attempt at wit, but it had the desired effect, and Jim was soon as calm as Gill could desire. Then he threw the shoe-strings away and proceeded to business.
"I mean to elect you Justice of the Peace, Jim. That office will materially increase your income. In return for my exertions in your behalf, I expect you to marry me. You will be elected on Tuesday. On Wednesday night you will meet me at the church and unite me to the woman of my choice. I will pay you a fee and, besides, will bet you twenty dollars in gold that you will be the first to tell of a marriage which for good reasons my intended wife and I desire to be kept secret for some time."
Jim rose, delighted that the favor asked of him would be so easily granted.
"Say, Gill, thet's all right; yer needn't make the bet. Yer jist 'lect me squire, an' I'll marry yer fer nuthin' and never tell a soul."
"But I think I'll win, that's why I want to bet."
"Well, then, I'll jist take yer up."
"All right; it's a wager."