“That's beca'se you don't happen to know as much about the business as I do,” said Bishop, with a satisfied chuckle, which, to the observant Daniel, sounded very much like exultation. “When you all know what I know you 'll be laughin' on t'other sides o' yore mouths.” He started down the steps into the yard as if going to the row of bee-hives along the fence, but paused and came back. He had evidently changed his mind. “I reckon,” he said, “I 'll jest _have_ to let you all know about this or I won't have a speck o' peace from now on. I didn't tell you at fust beca'se nobody kin keep a secret as well as the man it belongs to, an' I was afeerd it ud leak out an' damage my interests; but this last five thousand acres jest about sweeps all the best timber in the whole Cohutta section, an' I mought as well let up. I reckon you all know that ef--I say _ef_--my land was nigh a railroad it ud be low at five times what I paid fer it, don't you? Well, then! The long an' short of it is that I happen to be on the inside an' know that a railroad is goin' to be run from Blue Lick Junction to Darley. It 'll be started inside of the next yeer an' 'll run smack dab through my property. Thar now, you know more'n you thought you did, don't you?” The little group stared into his glowing face incredulously. “A railroad is to be built, father?” exclaimed Alan. “That's what I said.” Mrs. Bishop's eyes flashed with sudden hope, and then, as if remembering her husband's limitations, her face fell. “Alfred,” she asked, sceptically, “how does it happen that you know about the railroad before other folks does?” “How do I? That's it now--how do I?” and the old man laughed freely. “I've had my fun out o' this thing, listenin' to what every crank said about me bein' cracked, an' so on; but I was jest a-lyin' low waitin' fer my time.” “Well, I 'll be switched!” ejaculated Abner Daniel, half seriously, half sarcastically. “Geewhilikins! a railroad! I've always said one would pay like rips an' open up a dern good, God-fersaken country. I'm glad you are a-goin' to start one, Alfred.” Alan's face was filled with an expression of blended doubt and pity for his father's credulity. “Father,” he said, gently, “are you sure you got your information straight?” “I got it from headquarters.” The old man raised himself on his toes and knocked his heels together, a habit he had not indulged in for many a year. “It was told to me confidentially by a man who knows all about the whole thing, a man who is in the employ o' the company that's goin' to build it.” “Huh!” the exclamation was Abner Daniel's, “do you mean that Atlanta lawyer, Perkins?” Bishop stared, his mouth lost some of its pleased firmness, and he ceased the motion of his feet. “What made you mention his name?” he asked, curiously. “Oh, I dunno; somehow I jest thought o' him. He looks to me like he mought be buildin' a railroad ur two.” “Well, that's the man I mean,” said Bishop, more uneasily.