“Still he would be very imprudent,” said Miller, “to option his property without any limit. Now here's what we are willing to do. As long as you hold Mr. Bishop's note for twenty-five thousand dollars unpaid, you shall have the refusal of the land at one hundred thousand dollars. Now take my advice”--Miller was smiling broadly--“let it stand at that.” Wilson reflected for a moment, and then he said: “All right; let that go. The other condition is this--and it need be only a verbal promise--that nothing be said about my company's making this loan nor our securing the refusal of the property.” “That will suit us,” said Miller. “Mr. Bishop' doesn't care to have the public know his business. Of course, the mortgage will have to be recorded at the court-house, but that need not attract attention. I don't blame Mr. Bishop,” went on Miller, in a half-confidential tone. “These people are the worst gossips you ever saw. If you meet any of them they will tell you that Mr. Bishop has bu'sted himself wide open by buying so much timber-land, but this loan will make him as solid as the Bank of England. The people don't understand his dealings, and they are trying to take it out on him by blasting his reputation for being one of the solidest men in his county.” “Well, that's all, I believe,” said Wilson, and Miller drew a blank sheet of legal-cap paper to him and began to write. Half an hour later the papers were signed and Miller carelessly handed Wilson's crisp pink check on a New York bank to Mr. Bishop. “There you are, Mr. Bishop,” he said, with a smile; “you didn't want any one else to have a finger in that big pie of yours over there, but you needed money, and I 'll tell you as a friend that a hundred thousand cash down will be about as well as you can do with that land. It takes money, and lots of it, to make money, and Mr. Wilson's company can move the thing faster than you can.” “That's a fact,” said Wilson, in a tone that betrayed self-gratification. “Now we must all pull together for the railroad.” He rose and turned to Miller. “Will you come with me to record the paper?” “Certainly,” said Miller, and they both left together. The Bishop family were left alone, and the strain being lifted, they found themselves almost wholly exhausted. “Is it all over?” gasped the old woman, standing up and grasping her son's arm. “We've got his money,” Alan told her, with a glad smile, “and a fair chance for more.” The pink check was fluttering in old Bishop's hand. Already the old self-willed look that brooked no interference with his personal affairs was returning to his wrinkled face. “I 'll go over to Craig's bank an' deposit it,” he said to Alan. “It 'll take a day or two to collect it, but he'd let me check on it right now fer any reasonable amount.” “I believe I'd ask him not to mention the deposit,” suggested Alan. “Huh! I reckon I've got sense enough to do that.”