had pulled off one boot, flung it across the kitchen floor.
"I don't care, he can have his old place," he cried angrily. "We'll never get rich here, if we stay a hundred years. I'm sick and tired of cutting timber just for one's meals!"
"It's all well enough to talk so, Randy," was the elder brother's cautious response. "But where are we to go if we leave here?"
"Oh, anywhere! We might try our luck down in Bangor, or maybe Boston."
Earl smiled faintly. "We'd cut pretty figures in a city, I'm thinking, after a life in the backwoods."
"A backwoods boy became President."
"Do you wish to try for the presidency?"
"No; but it shows what can be done; and I'm tired of drudging in the woods, without any excitement or anything new from one year's end to another. Father and mother gave us pretty good educations, and we ought to make the most of that."
"I knew he wanted to sell this land to Dan Roland," went on Earl, after a pause. "I fancy he is going to get a good price, too."
"If Roland pays over five hundred dollars he will get cheated. The timber at the south end is good for nothing."
The boys entered the cabin, lit the lamp, and sat down to discuss the situation. It was far from promis-
