“If you will sit down,” she said, as she ushered them into the living room and indicated chairs, “I will call him.”
She vanished, followed by Ned’s eyes. Tom, looking at his friend, saw him staring at the door through which she had disappeared.
“Hard hit, old boy?” he bantered. “Come out of your trance.”
Ned glared at him, but before he could frame a suitable retort the young girl came back, accompanied by a man whom she introduced as her father. Then she excused herself, flushing a trifle as she caught the all too evident admiration in Ned’s eyes.
Mr. Goby was a medium-built man somewhat over fifty, with a kindly and intelligent face. He wore a pair of colored spectacles, evidently to cover his loss of sight. The young men took to him at once.
After a few preliminary remarks, Tom launched into the object of their visit. He told him that he and a few of his friends had decided to go into an oil venture, and were looking about for a likely spot to commence operations. They had selected the Copperhead district and had noted that his farm was right in the center of the producing field. Did Mr. Goby care to sell or lease all or part of his property? If he did, Tom thought they might make a deal, as he and his associates were prepared to offer perfectly fair terms.
The blind man listened attentively, though, for a time, the boys could not tell whether interestedly or not.
“Well,” said he, “it seems highly probable that oil abounds on this farm of mine. All my friends have told me so, and the fact that rich strikes have been made all around it seems to confirm the probability. Then, too, I’ve had a number of offers from speculators and prospectors. One group in particular have been especially pressing. A man named Thompson with two of his friends have seemed very anxious to make some arrangement. But—” here Mr. Goby hesitated for a moment—“perhaps it isn’t fair to say so, but there’s something about them that doesn’t seem to ring quite true. What they offer sounds fair enough, but, somehow, I don’t quite feel as though I could trust them. My daughter, Carol, who is pretty shrewd, feels the same way about it.”
“I see,” murmured Tom, nodding.
“You see,” continued Mr. Goby, after some further talk concerning the offer Tom was prepared to make, “I’m at a disadvantage on account of my blindness. So I have to leave most of my business affairs in the hands of an old friend of mine, Judge Wilson, of the district court. I’ve referred this Mr. Thompson and his partners to the judge, but for some reason or other they seem reluctant to deal with him. They say that I’m the owner of the property, and they’d rather deal direct with me than through my attorney. But how can I sign papers that I haven’t read? To be sure, my daughter could read them to me, but even then I’m not versed in legal matters, and there might be some clause in the contract that would seem perfectly innocent and yet be used to rob me. This farm is all I have in the world, and I have to look out for the future of my daughter.”