I'll have to admit that I am," said the other, smiling.

   "Passenger agent, or something of that sort, I reckon? Well, let me tell you, you change your road. Say, there was a man down below here last week settling up claims—Bill! Ah-h,

    Bill

   ! Where've you gone?"

   "Yes," said Eddring, "it certainly did seem that when we built this road every cow and every nigger, not to mention a lot of white folks, made a bee-line straight for our right of way. Why, sir, it was a solid line of cows and niggers from Memphis to New Orleans. How could you blame an engineer if he run into something once in a while? He couldn't

    help

   it."

   "Yes. Now, do you know what this claim-settler, or this claim-agent man did? Why, he paid a man down

   below here two stations—what do you think he paid him for as fine a heifer as ever eat cane? Why, fifteen dollars!"

   "Fifteen dollars!"

   "Yes, fifteen dollars."

   "That looks like a heap of money for a heifer, doesn't it, Colonel Blount?"

   "A heap of money? Why, no. Heap of

    money

   ? Why, what do you mean?"

   "Heifers didn't bring that before the road came through. Why, you would have had to drive that heifer twenty-five miles before you could get a market, and then she wouldn't have brought over twelve dollars. Now, fifteen dollars, seems to me, is about right."

   "Well, let the heifer go. But there was a cow killed three miles below here the other day. Neighbors of mine. I reckon that claim agent wouldn't want to allow any more than fifteen dollars for Jim Bowles' cow, neither."

   "Maybe not."

 Prev. P 14/201 next