“They couldn't do half as well with it,” the Boston man said. “In fact, no one could, as I told you, pay as much for the property as we can, considering the railroad we have to move somewhere, and our gigantic facilities for handling lumber in America and abroad. Still I think, and our directors think, a hundred thousand is a big price.” Miller laughed as if amused. “That's five dollars an acre, you know, but I'm not here to boom Mr. Bishop's timber-land. In fact, all this has grown out of my going down to Atlanta to borrow twenty-five thousand dollars on the property. I think I would have saved time if I hadn't run on you down there, Mr. Wilson.” Wilson frowned and looked at his cigar. “We are willing,” said he, “to make the loan at five per cent, per annum on two conditions.” “Well, out with them,” laughed Miller. “What are they?” “First,” said Wilson, slowly and methodically, “we want the refusal of the property at one hundred thousand dollars.” A thrill of triumph passed over the silent group. Alan saw his father's face fill with sudden hope, and then it seemed to stand in abeyance as if doubt had already mastered it. Abner Daniel caught his beard in his stiff fingers and slowly slid them downward. Mrs. Bishop's bonnet hid her face, but her fingers were twitching excitedly as they toyed with the fringe of her shawl. Miller's indifference was surprising. “For what length of time do you want the refusal of the property at that figure?” he asked, almost in a tone of contempt. Wilson hung fire, his brow wrinkled thoughtfully. “Till it is decided positively,” he got out finally, “whether we can get a charter and a right of way to the property.” To those who were not following the details as closely as were Alan and Miller the reply of the latter fell discouragingly, even Abner Daniel glared in open horror of what he regarded as an unfavorable turn in the proceedings. “That's entirely too indefinite to suit my clients,” said the lawyer. “Do you suppose, Mr. Wilson, that they want to hang their property up on a hook like that? Why, if you didn't attend to pushing your road through--well, they would simply be in your hands, the Lord only knows how long.” “But we intend to do all we can to shove it through,” said Wilson, with a flush. “You know that is not a business-like proposition, Mr. Wilson,” said Miller, with a bland smile. “Why, it amounts to an option without any limit at all.” “Oh, I don't know,” said Wilson, lamely. “Mr. Bishop will be interested just as we are in getting a right of way through--in fact, it would insure us of his help. We can't buy a right of way; we can't afford it. The citizens through whose property the road runs must be persuaded to contribute the land for the purpose, and Mr. Bishop, of course, has influence up here with his neighbors.”