"Oh! Eh! Changed yer mind, did ye?" said Porter, as he pulled up his team and helped Roger to climb on the high seat. "Wa'al, I'm glad t' hev ye come along. I didn't hev no one t' ride 'ith me. Nothin' but a lot a' weemin passengers this trip. G'lang, Pete 'n' Jim," and he nicked the horses lightly. Roger thought the ride to Cardiff would never come to an end. But, at last, he came in sight of the white church. He jumped off the stage at the post-office, and ran all the way to his uncle's house. He burst into the kitchen, where he saw Mr. Kimball looking at a paper. "Fer th' land sakes," burst out Mrs. Kimball, "we thought a b'ar had carried ye off, Roger." "Uncle Bert!" cried the boy, earnestly, "don't sign any papers, agreeing to sell the land near the spring!" Mr. Kimball gazed slowly over the rims of his spectacles at his nephew. "Wa'al," he began slowly, "I didn't know 's ye knew anythin' 'bout this transaction, but ye're a leetle too late. I signed an hour ago. Mr. Ranquist brought th' agreement t' me, 'n' I must say I think I got a good price. Enough t' pay off th' mortgage, 'n' a leetle over." "Then you have signed?" spoke the boy, waiting in fear for the answer. "I hev." "I'm too late," exclaimed Roger, bitterly. "They got ahead of me, after all." CHAPTER XXII A QUESTION OF LAW The sudden entrance of Roger, his words and manner, and his earnestness, created no small excitement in the Kimball household. Adrian and Clara, who had been in the sitting-room, discussing the situation, and rejoicing over the sale of the land, by means of which the mortgage could be paid, came hurrying into the kitchen as they heard their cousin speak. "Hello, Roger!" exclaimed Adrian. "I was just going out to hunt you up. Where were you?" "Out to Syracuse," answered Roger, briefly. Mr. Kimball folded up the agreement of sale he had been reading, and came over to where his nephew stood. "Roger, my boy," he began, "what do ye mean? What is all this about, anyhow? Ain't I got a right t' sell my land ef I want t'? 'N' ain't two thousand dollars a good price fer th' spring-glade?" "No, sir! It is not!" burst out the boy. "That's just it. You've gone and bargained away land worth probably twenty times what you have agreed to sell it for." "What's that? I guess ye don't know what ye're talkin' about, Roger." "I guess I do," said Roger, stoutly, but not forgetting the deference due his uncle. "Look here!" and he held out a few of the white crystals. "What's them?" asked Mr. Kimball. "Rock salt." "Rock salt. Wa'al, what of it? There's lots of it, out t' Syracuse."