Somehow the others were all looking at Abner Daniel, who grunted suddenly and almost angrily. “I wouldn't trust that skunk no furder'n I could fling a bull by the tail.” “You say you wouldn't?” Bishop tried to smile, but the effort was a facial failure. “I wouldn't trust 'im nuther, brother Ab,” chimed in Mrs. Bishop. “As soon as I laid eyes on 'im I knowed he wouldn't do. He's too mealy-mouthed an' fawnin'. Butter wouldn't melt in his mouth; he bragged on ever'thing we had while he was heer. Now, Alfred, what we must git at is, what was his object in tellin' you that tale.” “Object?” thundered her husband, losing his temper in the face of the awful possibility that her words hinted at. “Are you all a pack an' passle o' fools? If you must dive an' probe, then I 'll tell you he owns a slice o' timber-land above Holley Creek, j'inin' some o' mine, an' so he let me into the secret out o' puore good will. Oh, you all cayn't skeer me; I ain't one o' the skeerin' kind.” But, notwithstanding this outburst, it was plain that doubt had actually taken root in the ordinarily cautious mind of the crude speculator. His face lengthened, the light of triumph went out of his eyes, leaving the shifting expression of a man taking desperate chances. Abner Daniel laughed out harshly all at once and then was silent. “What's the matter?” asked his sister, in despair. “I was jest a-wonderin',” replied her brother. “You are?” said Bishop, angrily. “It seems to me you don't do much else.” “Folks 'at wonders a lot ain't so apt to believe ever'thing they heer,” retorted Abner. “I was just a-wonderin' why that little, spindle-shanked Peter Mosely has been holdin' his head so high the last week or so. I 'll bet I could make a durn good guess now.” “What under the sun's Peter Mosely got to do with my business?” burst from Bishop's impatient lips. “He's got a sorter roundabout connection with it, I reckon,” smiled Abner, grimly. “I happen to know that Abe Tompkins sold 'im two thousand acres o' timber-land on Huckleberry Ridge jest atter yore Atlanta man spent the day lookin' round in these parts.” Bishop was no fool, and he grasped Abner's meaning even before it was quite clear to the others. “Looky heer,” he said, sharply, “what do you take me fur?”