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"Hear folks is trespassin' on your land, Norton. Name of Crane and Keith. Haulin' logs acrost. No contract with you? No contract with Plumm?" "No contract." "Hain't got a right to do it, have they?" "No." "If I owned that land I'd give 'em notice," said Scattergood. "G'-by, Norton. Goin'to Boston to-day. Set tight, Norton. G'-by."
"Folks always pays what they have to no more no less. Immediate possession. Always a good thing. Got any money?" "No." "Call at the bank. They'll give you what's needed. Ought to be back with the deed by night. Fast hoss?" "Fast enough." "G'-by, Norton." That night Norton returned with the deed and with Old Man Plumm, who took the morning stage for Connecticut and his youngest daughter.
Their rollways were piled high, and it was time for them to team to the river. To reach the river they must pass through the Bottleneck and over the farm belonging to Old Man Plumm. There was another road into the valley a public road but it was a fifteen-mile haul. Old Man Plumm was a non-assertive person, and good-natured.
"I guess I can iron out the difficulties you gentlemen have arranged for, and there will be no receivership. That will relieve Mr. Baines, who has a considerable contract with the company." Mr. Crane swore softly. Scattergood heaved himself to his feet. "One other leetle matter, Crane. There's the Plumm farm. Kind of exercised about that, hain't you?
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