. Business friends. I'm talking to you as I would to any other chap
I intended to beat in a deal; there's nothing personal about it. When I
get you so you're ready to sell I'll give you five thousand dollars for
that strip of land."

I actually staggered. I said what Lute had said to me.

"You're crazy!" I cried. "Five thousand dollars for that land!"

"Yes. Oh, I know what it's worth. Five hundred is for the land itself.
The other forty-five hundred is payment for the privilege of having my
own way. Want to close with me now?"

It took me some time to answer. "No," is a short and simple word, but I
found it tremendously difficult to pronounce. Yet I did pronounce it,
I am glad to say. After all that I had said before I would have been
ashamed to do anything else.

He did not appear surprised at my refusal.

"All right," he said. "I'm not going to coax you. Just remember that the
offer holds good and when you get ready to accept it, sing out. Well!"
looking at his watch, "I must be going. My wife will think I've fallen
into the bay, or been murdered by the hostile natives. Nerves are mean
things to have in the house; you can take my word for that. Good-by,
Paine. Thank you again for last night and the rest of it. Mabel will
thank you herself when she sees you, I presume."

He was on his way to the door when I recovered presence of mind
sufficient to remember ordinary politeness.

"Your daughter--er--Miss Colton is well?" I stammered. "No ill effects
from her wetting--and the shock?"

"Not a bit. She's one of the kind of girls they turn out nowadays.
Athletics and all that. Her grandmother would have died probably, after
such an upset, but she's as right as I am. Oh . . . er--Paine, next time
you go shooting let me know. Maybe I'd like to go along. I used to be
able to hit a barn door occasionally."

He stopped long enough to bite the end from a cigar and strolled away,
smoking. I sat down in the armchair. "Five thousand dollars!" . . .
"Carver won't do." . . . "I will have the Lane some time or other."
. . . "Five thousand dollars!" . . . "Next time you go shooting." . . .
"Friends!" . . . "Five thousand dollars!"

Oh, this was a nightmare! I must wake up before it got any worse.

CHAPTER X

Mother was the only one to whom I told the whole story of my experience
in the "tempest" and of Colton's call. She and I had a long talk. She
was as surprised to hear of the five thousand dollar offer as I had