me. I want you to keep still, otherwise I'll have the law on you."
"Dave, don't you think it would be best to take up with Mr. Poole's offer?" asked Caspar Potts, tremblingly.
"No, sir—at least not until you have asked some folks around Crumville what the land is worth."
"But—but——"
"Ben Basswood said there was some talk of running a trolley line from Haverfield through Crumville to Dixonville. If it went past here——"
"The boy is crazy," interrupted Aaron Poole. "The farm isn't worth a cent over what I am offering for it."
"I believe he is right, Dave."
"Then you'll take me up?" came quickly from Aaron Poole. He could scarcely suppress a smile of satisfaction.
"Don't do it," said Dave. "Wait at least until we can ask some folks in town about it. I can see Mr. Basswood to-morrow, and Mr. Jackson, and perhaps Mr. Gay, the lawyer."
"Boy, you have no right to interfere in this fashion," stormed Aaron Poole. "This is a piece of business between Mr. Potts and myself alone. Mr. Potts, you had better send the lad away. He doesn't know what he is talking about."
Caspar Potts gazed at the rich man, and then at Dave, in bewilderment.
