d strikes without sign or sound.
Into Hiram Strong's troubled mind came the thought that Mr. Pepper was
striking like his prototype of the swamps.

A snaky sort of a man was Mr. Pepper--sly, a hand-rubber as he talked,
with a little, sickly grin playing about his thin, mean mouth. When he
opened it Hiram almost expected to see a forked tongue run out.

At least, of one thing was the young farmer sure: Mr. Pepper was no more
to be trusted than a serpent. Therefore, he did not take a word that the
man said on trust.

He recovered from the shock which the statement of the real estate man
had caused, and he uttered no expression of either surprise, or trouble.
Mrs. Atterson he could see was vastly disturbed by the statement; but
somebody had to keep a cool bead in this matter.

"Let's see your option," Hiram demanded, bruskly.

"Why--if Mrs. Atterson wishes to see it----"

"You show it to Hi, you Pepper-man," snapped the old lady. "I wouldn't
do a thing without his advice."

"Oh, well, if you consider a boy's advice material----"

"I know Hi's honest," declared the old lady, tartly. "And that's what
I'm sure you ain't! Besides," she added, sadly, "Hi's as much interested
in this thing as I be. If the farm's got to be sold, it puts Hi out of a
job."

"Oh, very well," said the real estate man, and he drew a rather soiled,
folded paper from his inner pocket.

He seemed to hesitate the fraction of a second about showing the paper.
It increased Hi's suspicion--this hesitancy. If the man had a perfectly
good option on the farm, why didn't he go about the matter boldly?

But when he got the paper in his own hands he could see nothing wrong
with it. It seemed written in straight-forward language, the signatures
were clear enough, and as he had seen and read Uncle Jeptha's will,
he was quite sure that this was the old man's signature to the option
which, for the sum of twenty dollars in hand paid to him, he agreed to
sell his farm, situated so-and-so, for sixteen hundred dollars, cash,
same to be paid over within one year of date.

"Of course," said Hiram, slowly, handing back the paper--indeed, Pepper
had kept the grip of his forefinger and thumb on it all the time--"Of
course, Mrs. Atterson's lawyer must see this before she agrees to
anything."

"Why, Hiram! I ain't got no lawyer," exclaimed the old lady.

"Go to Mr. Strickland, who made Uncle Jeptha's will," Hiram said to her.
Then he turned to Pepper:

"What's