“Because a thing’s _big_,” says he, “is no sign it’s got a right to gouge somethin’ else because it’s l-l-little.” “No.” “Well, I won’t be f-found standin’ in the way of their Power Company the minute it wants to be fair and d-d-decent. But so long as it tries to smouge Silas I’ll fight. Yes, sir, I’ll _fight_.” “Guess you’re right,” says I. “And,” says he, “one piece of f-f-fightin’ I’m goin’ to do concerns Jason Barnes. He’s a sneakin’ old foozle, and he’s goin’ to wish he never heard of Wiggamore or a dam or Silas before he’s more ’n twenty year older ’n what he is.” “What do you want for the mill, anyhow? How much you figger Wiggamore ought to pay?” “What it’s worth,” says he, “and not a cent m-more or a cent l-less.” “That sounds fair, anyhow,” says I. “It’s what we’ll git,” says he. “I’ve heard tell these big companies was hard to beat.” “Then,” says he, “that jest m-means that m-much more hard work. Because,” says he, “we’re a-goin’ to b-beat ’em.” “Good night,” says I. CHAPTER VII “The t-trouble,” says Mark, next morning, “is that we got to wait for our m-money a month after we ship.” “How?” says I. “Why, we put the stuff on cars and s-s-send it. Whoever buys it has got a month to pay for it.” “So,” says I, “even if we have the best kind of luck, which hain’t likely, it’ll be a month before any money comes in—and maybe more, because everybody won’t pay up prompt.” “Yes,” says he. “So,” says I, “we’ve got a month, anyhow, and we’ve got to pay the men, and pay our bills and everythin’, and no money comin’ in.” “That’s the f-f-fix,” says he. “And we hain’t got an order,” says I. “I just sent out my f-figgers to some of our customers.” “They’ll be mad,” says I, “because they been used to buyin’ at Silas Doolittle’s prices, and now you’ve gone and raised ’em.” “You bet I have,” says he. “What if you don’t git any orders?” “Then we’re b-busted,” says he. “Huh!” says I. “We’ll git orders,” he says, “b-because my prices are _fair_. I’ll bet they’re l-lower than some. So far’s I kin see,” he says, “’tain’t any worse to go b-busted sellin’ for enough than for too little. One way we’re sure to b-bust. The other way we got a chance.” “If we kin git orders,” says I, “and if we kin find money to carry us through the next month.” “That’s the idee,” says he, and you could tell he was a mite worried by the way he took a hold of his cheek and pinched it and jerked at it. He always did that when he was worried, but I never got really scairt till he began to whittle. When Mark Tidd whittled, then things was perty sick. “That notice of yours comes out in the paper this afternoon,” says I. “The one about Silas’s debts.” “Uh-huh,” says he. “Well,” says I, “what if half the town comes traipsin’ in with bills against him? What then?” “We’ll have to f-f-figger to pay ’em somehow,” says he.