"Good corn-ripenin' weather," agreed the old man, squinting at the sky from force of habit, and then, being satisfied that there was no threatening cloud in all the visible blue expanse, he returned to a calm consideration of the strangers, waiting patiently for Mr. Turner to introduce himself. "I understand, Mr. Gifford, that you are open to an offer for your walnut trees," began Mr. Turner, looking at his watch. "Well, I might be," admitted the old man cautiously. "I see," returned Sam; "that is, you might be interested if the price were right. Let's get right down to brass tacks. How much do you want?" "Standin' or cut?" "Well, say standing?" "How much do you offer?" Miss Stevens' gaze roved from the one to the other and found enjoyment in the fact that here Greek had met Greek. Sam's reply was prompt and to the point. He named a price. "No," said the old man instantly. "I been a-holdin' out for five dollars a thousand more than that." Things were progressing. A basis for haggling had been established. Sam Turner, however, had the advantage. He knew the sharp advance in walnut announced that morning. Old man Gifford would not be aware of it until the rural free delivery brought his evening paper, of the night before, some time that afternoon. In view of the recent advance, even at Mr. Gifford's price there was a handsome profit in the transaction. "The reason you've had to hold out for your rate until right now was that nobody would pay it," said Sam confidently. "Now I'm here to talk spot cash. I'll give you, say, a thousand dollars down, and the balance immediately upon measurement as the logs are loaded upon the cars." The old man nodded in approval. "The terms is all right," he said. "How much will you take F. O. B. Restview?" "Well, cuttin' and trimmin' and haulin' ain't much in my line," returned the old man, again cautious; "but after all, I reckon that there'd be less damage to my property if I looked after it myself. Of course, I'd have to have a profit for handlin' it. I'd feel like holdin' out for--for--" and after some hesitation he again named a figure. "You've made that same proposition to others," charged Sam shrewdly, "and you couldn't get the price." Upon the heels of this he made his own offer. The old man shook his head and turned as if to start back to the corn field. "No, I can get better than that," he declared, shaking his head. "Come back here and let's talk turkey," protested Sam compellingly. "You name the very lowest price you'll take, delivered on board the cars at Restview." The old man reached down, pulled up a blade of grass, chewed it carefully, spit it out, and named his very, very lowest price; then he added: "What's the most you'll give?" Miss Stevens leaned forward intently. Sam very promptly named a figure five dollars lower. "I'll split the difference with you," offered the old man.