“So you’ve cleaned it up, have you?” he exclaimed, as the boys told him their errand. “I saw last week it was most done. Reckon you’ll want a little money and the rest in land. Sharp boys! know land is best—goin’ up, goin’ up all the time.”
“But if you please, Mr. Pylant, we’d rather have the money,” said Dave, quietly.
“Money!” exclaimed the “cracker,” in astonishment. “Why, boys, in one year there’ll be a city on that land, and you’ll be rich. The lots I let you have for thirty dollars’ll be worth a fortune.”
“We don’t want any lots,” replied Dave, decidedly. “We intend to get some land when we can, but we must have it large enough to put out a good grove on.”
“Well, I’ll sell you a five-acre lot near the village for two hundred dollars, and you can work it out.”
“Too much,” answered Dave. “We want cheaper land, and are willing to go a longer distance from town.”
“But that’s cheap,” expostulated Pylant, who began to fear he would have to pay out money. “How far would you be willin’ to go for land?” he added, as another idea seemed to strike him.
“Not particular, if the land is good and price low.”
“Then I’ve got the identical place for you,” cried Pylant, his face brightening; “splendid land, and on a beautiful lake.”
“How far?”