"Well, there's one point settled, and let me say I agree with you. Now for another point. You want an outdoor life?"
"Yes, I prefer it."
"Very good. Now, let me paint you a picture. A country of wooded hills and snow mountains, a lake, a log-house, and let us say a hundred acres of cleared land with seventy-five apple trees to the acre. Do you know what that means? I'll tell you. An apple tree in bearing means from five to ten dollars. An orchard of only fifty acres therefore means—here, hand me that paper-pad."
And straightway he fell to work, with all the recovered ardour of the speculator, adding and re-adding interminable lines of figures, until he announced the surprising result that the man who owned fifty acres of land in this most desirable of valleys might count upon a yearly income of $18,750, and in due time twice or thrice that sum.
"It's better than a gold-mine," he cried inconsistently. "And it's safe—it's absolutely safe!"
"But how am I to buy it?"
"You're not going to buy it. Don't you understand? It's already yours. Here, wait a moment."
There was another series of swift calculations, and then Bundy communicated this result: that the money Archibold Masterman had lent him years before had been really worth to him thrice its value, for it had set him on his feet; that morally therefore he owed £2,000 to Archibold Masterman; that the price of this excellent fruit ranch, by a strange coincidence, was exactly £2,000; and that finally it was his fixed determination to make the ranch over to Arthur, as an act of gratitude.
"There's the life you want," he cried enthusiastically.
"But, Mr. Bundy——"