“But you've seen the option? “Yes.” “And it reads a year? “Oh, yes.” “Then how you going to get around that?” demanded Schell, with conviction. “But perhaps Uncle Jeptha signed the option thinking it was for a shorter time.” “That wouldn't help you none. The paper was signed. And why should Pepper have buncoed him--at that time?” “Why should he be so eager to get the farm now?” asked Hiram. “Well, I'll tell you. It ain't out yet. But two or three days ago the railroad board abandoned the route through Ayertown and it is agreed that the new bridge will be built along there by your farm somewhere. “The river is as narrow there as it is anywhere for miles up and down, and they will stretch a bridge from the high bank on your side, across the meadows, to the high bank on the other side. It will cut out grades, you see. That's what has started Pepper up to grab off the farm while the option is valid.” “But, Mr. Schell, is the option valid?” cried Hiram, anxiously. “I don't see how you're going to get around it. Ah! here's the place. When I have sealed a paper I make a note of it--what the matter was about and who the contracting parties were. I've done that for years. Let--me--see.” He adjusted his spectacles. He squinted at the page, covered closely with writing. Hiram saw him whispering the words he read to himself. Suddenly the blood flooded into the old man's face, and he looked up with a start at his interrogator. “Do you mean to say that option's for a year? he demanded. “That is the way it reads--now,” whispered Hiram, watching him closely. The old man turned the book around slowly on the counter. His stubbed finger pointed to the two or three scrawled lines written in a certain place. Hiram read them slowly, with beating heart. CHAPTER XX. AN ENEMY IN THE DARK The whispered conference between Hiram Strong and the storekeeper could not be heard by the curious crowd around the cold stove; nor did it last for long. Caleb Schell finally closed his ledger and put it away. Hiram shook hands with him and walked out. On the platform outside, which was illuminated by a single smoky lantern, a group of small boys were giggling, and they watched Hiram unhitch the old horse and climb into the spring wagon with so much hilarity that the young farmer expected some trick. The horse started off all right, he missed nothing from the wagon, and so he supposed that he was mistaken. The boys had merely been laughing at him because he was a stranger. But as Hiram got some few yards from the hitching rack, the seat was suddenly pulled from under him, and he was left sprawling on his back in the bottom of the wagon. A yell of derision from the crowd outside the store assured him that this was the cause of the boys' hilarity. Luckily his old horse was of quiet disposition, and he stopped dead in his tracks when the seat flew out of the back of the wagon.