The next day he boarded an east-bound train in company with the Wheeling man. It was an ugly region into which he was introduced, defiled by soft-coal smoke, and unpicturesque with tall foundry chimneys; a region of pig-iron, coke, iron rails, and mammoth castings. He found that Southerland was a man of substance and importance here. In his own smoky atmosphere he talked in a large way, and with an enthusiasm for his schemes and ventures which he could not altogether repress. He was up to the neck in iron, he told Benson, and he was all for going deeper. To look over the Landray tract involved an entire day in a buggy over the worst of roads; and, as Southerland had said, there was not much to see. “I'll tell you, sir,” said he, chewing a blade of grass and watching the lawyer out of the corner of his eye. “I'll tell you, sir, I want this land. I'll give as much as the next—maybe you'll find I'll give more. After you get through with me you're perfectly welcome to go about and learn all you can. I don't want you should think I'm trying to keep anything from you. I want this piece of property. I've been buying coal; I want to stop that—I want to mine it. You'll note the property's out of the way just now, that's what's kept it back; but if I buy it I'll have a railroad over here inside of a twelve month.” They had left the buggy, and were seated on the ground with a flat rock between them which was littered with the remains of their lunch. “I'll make you my offer. I'll give—” he paused for a brief instant. “I'll give fifty thousand dollars for the tract. Now if you can beat them figures, you're at liberty to!” He had risen, and stood looking down on the lawyer. Benson did not speak, he did not look up, for he did not want Southerland to see his face. Fifty thousand dollars! He wondered if he had really heard aright. Fifty thousand dollars! A great joy engulfed him, he could only think of what this would do for Virginia—the relief, the ease—again the comfort of ample means. Yet when he spoke his habitual caution prompted him to ask coldly: “That is the best you can do?” “Yes. Think it over,” said Southerland. “I'll get up the horse,” he added, and strode away. Benson did not follow him at once. Fifty thousand dollars! This was rare news he should carry home. He did not propose to commit himself to Southerland then and there however, he would learn first, if he could not do better. But he had the premonition that he would accept this offer in the end, since something in Southerland's tone convinced him that he was offering all the land was worth. On the drive back to town they seemed by mutual consent to avoid any reference to the offer. When they drew up at the curb before Benson's hotel, Southerland said: “I suppose you'll want to-morrow to look about, and then you'll have to consult your principal before we can settle anything.”