"Now I'm here to talk spot cash.

I'll give you, say, a thousand dollars down, and the balance immediately upon measurement as the logs are loaded upon the cars." The old man nodded in approval.
"The terms is all right," he said.
"How much will you take F.O.

B.Restview ?" "Well, cuttin' and trimmin' and haulin' ain't much in my line," returned the old man, again cautious; "but after all, I reckon that there'd be less damage to my property if I looked after it myself.

Of course, I'd have to have a profit for handlin' it.

I'd feel like holdin' out for--for--" and after some hesitation he again named a figure.
"You've made that same proposition to others," charged Sam shrewdly, "and you couldn't get the price." Upon the heels of this he made his own offer.
The old man shook his head and turned as if to start back to the corn field.
"No, I can get better than that," he declared, shaking his head.
"Come back here and let's talk turkey," protested Sam compellingly.
"You name the very lowest price you'll take, delivered on board the cars at Restview." The old man reached down, pulled up a blade of grass, chewed it carefully, spit it out, and named his very, very lowest price; then he added: "What's the most you'll give ?" Miss Stevens leaned forward intently.
Sam very promptly named a figure five dollars lower.
"I'll split the difference with you," offered the old man.
"It's a bargain!" said Sam, and reaching into the inside pocket of his tennis coat, he brought out some queer furniture for that sort of garment--a small fountain pen and an extremely small card-case, from the latter of which he drew four folded blank checks.
He reached over and borrowed the chauffeur's enameled cap, dusted it carefully with his handkerchief, laid a check upon it and held his fountain pen poised.