"The land's too fur from my place," explained the farmer, as the two men rode along at an easy canter, "an' I can't keep track o' the lumber market, to know when to cut an' ship wannut lawgs, but 'tain't that way with you." "How much do you want for it?" "Well, I reckon five dollar an acre won't hurt ye--five dollars in goods. I've been a holdin' it a long time, 'cause wannut land is wuth more'n more ev'ry year; but my folks wants an awful lot o' stuff, an' my boys want me to lay in a lot o' new farmin' tools, an' make an' addition to the barn, an' I kind o' ciphered up what ev'rythin' wanted, all told, would cost, an' I made out 'twould be nigh onto two hundred dollars, an' I sez to myself, sez I, 'By gum, I'll sell the wannut lot; that's what I'll do.' It's all free an' clear--I've got the deed in my pocket, an' 'twon't take ye ten minutes at the County Clerk's office to find that there's no mortgages on it. Whoa! There! Did ye ever see finer wannut land'n that? Let's ride up an' down through it. I dunno any trees that grows that's as cherful to look at, from the money standp'int, as tall, thick black wannuts." Philip was not an expert on standing timber, but it was plain to see that the ground over which he rode, to and fro, was well sprinkled with fine black walnut trees. It lay low enough to be subject to the annual overflow of the creek, not far away, but Philip was bargaining for timber--not for land. The two men continued to ride until the farmer said:-- "Here's my line--see the blaze on this tree? You can see t'other end o' the line way down yander, ef you skin yer eye--a big blazed hick'ry; or, we'll ride down to it." "Never mind," said Philip. "I'll give you two hundred in goods as soon as you like." "I thort you would," said the farmer. "Well, I'll bring in the papers, fully executed, to-morrer, an' I'll leave a list o' stuff that ye might lay out, to save time; my wife can do her sheer o' the tradin' when she comes in to-morrer. An' I'll assign ye my own deed, when we get back to town, so's ye can have the title examined to-day, ef ye like, an' put a stopper agin any new incumbrances, though I ain't the kind o' man to make 'em after passin' my word. 'A bargain's a bargain!' that's my motto." When Philip returned to the store he found awaiting him a young man on horseback, whose face was unfamiliar. When the seller of the walnut land had departed, the young man said:-- "See anythin' wrong 'bout this hoss?" After a hasty but close examination Philip admitted that he did not. "Glad o' that," said the man, "'cause o' this." As he spoke he handed Philip a bit of paper on which was written, in Caleb's familiar chirography and over Caleb's signature:-- "DEAR JIM: Anybody would be glad to give you seventy-five dollars in cash for your colt, but you're foolish to sell now. Keep him a year, and you'll get fifty more, but if you're bound to sell, please give Mr. Somerton first show.