“You see, gentlemen,” said one of the men to his companions, as he pointed across the strip of land to the slope on the other side, “the road will wind around the lake, across the neck of land, and along the western side of the lake to the right, and then in almost a bee-line toward Palatka. Ten years from now, and this hillside for forty miles will be a succession of orange groves. Near the depot we shall have a limited number of business lots, while the balance of the land will be surveyed into large orange grove and villa tracts. It will be specified in each deed that no cheap buildings shall be erected. It is not a mere speculation, as there are already a dozen or more men who will begin elegant residences as soon as the land is surveyed.” “Do you know, professor, who owns that point jutting into the lake? It is a fine building site.” The speaker was a tall, sharp-featured man of middle age, whom his friends addressed as doctor. “No,” answered the professor, “but I think a man named Pylant is the owner, and that the twenty acres beyond belong to a Dutchman in Eustis. However, we do not wish to make inquiries at present. They saw us when we came out, and should we go back now and value their land, they will put on four prices. Our policy is to go back as though we were disappointed in the land, and by the time we return next week they will offer it at our own figures. We can probably get it for two to four dollars an acre. It is thirty miles from any town, and as Pylant got it from the government, four dollars will be a big price to him.” “And in twelve months it will be worth as many hundred,” said the doctor. Tom and Dave looked at each other curiously, and wondered how they would feel if they owned a few acres on this hillside. At the end of the week--for the two days’ work had lengthened into five--the boys were paid fifteen dollars, and told they would be soon wanted for several months, should they care to return. Everything was found safe at the shanty, and the boys went to work at the stumps with a will. At the end of the third day, the last root was reduced to ashes, and then Dave set to work to prepare a supper suitable for such an occasion. Fried quail (which they had snared), orange slump, pineapple shortcake, baked beans and a pot of steaming coffee graced the table (or rather box), while by way of dessert a pillow-case full of oranges, picked up in a neighboring grove, stood by the side of the banqueting board. Next morning the boys went to see Mr. Pylant. “So you’ve cleaned it up, have you?” he exclaimed, as the boys told him their errand. “I saw last week it was most done. Reckon you’ll want a little money and the rest in land. Sharp boys! know land is best--goin’ up, goin’ up all the time.” “But if you please, Mr. Pylant, we’d rather have the money,” said Dave, quietly.