haven't got it; that's why."
"What'll ye bet?"
"I won't bet."
"No, because ye'r scared. Ye know ye'd lose."
"What's the sense of talking that way, Abner? I know that you were only bluffing when you offered that thousand dollars, and you can't deny it. How could you ever make that much on a place like this?"
"By workin' the skin-game, that's how."
"The skin-game! What is that?"
"Don't ye know, Ikey? Now, I skin the ground fer what I git, an' mighty thin skinnin' it is. But you skin human bein's, 'specially poor widders."
Dimock waited to hear no more, but, turning angrily away, hastened across the field, boarded his car and drove furiously off. Abner watched him until he disappeared around the bend.
"Wasn't he mad, though?" he chuckled. "He got a flea in the ear that time, all right, ho, ho! It's not fer the situation or fer the sake of his health he wants this place, that's quite sartin. Dimock's not that kind. There's somethin' more'n ordinary back of this, an' it's up to me to find out what it is."
CHAPTER VII
BEATING THE MOVIES
The next morning Abner worked at his potatoes. He was not fond of this job, as the weeds were very thick and his temper was none the best. It was hard, anyway, for him to settle down for any length of time to one task. He preferred boating or lumbering, with all the excitement and uncertainty attached to each. But to be penned down in a potato patch was almost more than he could endure. It might have been different if the soil had been productive, but after hard toil there was little to show for all his efforts.
"Might as well be in a chain-gang," he meditated, as he tore at the weeds. "It's up one row an' down another, hour after hour. I jist feel wild fer somethin' to turn up. Wish to goodness Ikey Dimock 'ud happen along now. Mebbe he'd git somethin' to-day he escaped yesterday."
He paused, leaned on his hoe and looked across the field toward the gravel hill. As he did so his eyes opened wide in amazement, for there right on his land was a man with a strange looking instrument before him. He was pointing it in his direction, too. Maybe it was a gatling gun the fellow had. He had heard about such things. Ikey might have sent him to take the place by force. A fierce anger surged up in Abner's heart, and dropping his hoe, he sped to the house and took down his gun from its rack on the kitchen wall. When Mrs. Andrews asked him what he was going to do, he merely told her that there was a hawk after her chickens. Hurrying from the house, he made his way across the field, clutching his old shot-gun with both hands.
He kept his eyes fixed upon the young man, every instant expecting to see him either run or show some sign of terror and beg for his life. But when the intruder merely paused in his work, tipped back his straw hat a little and faced him without the least shadow of fear, Abner became puzzled. If the stranger had only run, it would have been a great lark chasing him across the field, brandishing his gun and shouting wild words of defiance. But to see the man viewing him so calmly upset his calculations. He slowed down, and when a few yards away he stopped and glared savagely.
"Why don't you shoot?" the stranger asked, in a matter-of-fact manner.
"I'm goin' to," was the reply.
"Well, you're a long time about it."
"Ain't ye afraid?"
"Afraid of what?"
"That I'll shoot ye."
"Not with that old gun. It wouldn't shoot a cat, and, besides, I don't believe it's loaded."
"Want me to try?"
"Sure; go ahead. I don't mind."
"Ye don't!"
"No, not a bit. But hurry up. I'm getting tired waiting."
Abner was now in a fix. He never intended to shoot the intruder, but merely wished to frighten him away. He did not know what to do, and only glared harder than ever.
"Why don't you shoot?" the stranger again asked.
"Hang the shootin'," Abner growled, as he thumped the gun down upon the ground. "De ye think I'm a brute?"
"Well, I wasn't altogether sure at first by the way you acted. I've often met brutes on four legs which performed in a similar manner, so I was somewhat puzzled."
"An' wasn't there reason?" Abner demanded. "What bizness have ye comin' on to my land?"
"What business? Why, my own, of course."
"An' what's that?"
"Don't you know?"
"Surveyin' my place, eh?"
"Sure; what did you ask me for, then?"
"But who sent ye here? Did Ikey Dimock?"
"Ikey Dimock! Let me see," and the young man scratched his head, as if in perplexity. "Say, I can't recall that name. Who is he? A friend of yours?"
"A friend of mine! Say that agin an' I'll punch ye'r face."
"Will you?"
"Sure. I won't stand fer any foolin', mind. Ye'r on my place, an' don't put on any of ye'r high-falutin' airs."
"Maybe two can play at that game of punching faces," and the stranger smiled as he straightened himself up a bit. "But I don't want to fight with you. Just let me alone until I get my work finished. If you want a row, go and fight the men who sent me here. Then you'll have all the fighting you can attend to."
"Who are they?" Abner queried.
"The members of the Government, to be sure."
"What in blazes have they to do in the matter, I'd like to know?"
"A great deal, as you'll find out. They sent me here, so it's no use to shoot me, or try to punch my nose. I'm only working under orders, and don't count."
"But what did they send ye here fer? Tell me that."
"To see how much gravel you have; that's why."
"Gravel! My gravel?"
"Yes. All that hill," and the surveyor motioned to the left.
"An' they want it? What fer?"
"For ballast."
"Ballast!"
"Certainly. The wise ones have been very uneasy of late, and have done considerable thinking. They have at last concluded that there is too much gravel right on this part of the earth's surface, and so they've decided to shift a portion of it to keep the old ship steady."
"Ye don't tell! An' where are they goin' to take it to?"
"Oh, just to the new railroad. They need ballast for that, and this is extra good stuff."
Abner lifted his old straw hat, and ran his fingers slowly through his hair. His eyes, which had been staring wide, now gradually contracted as he looked off toward the gravel hill. A new light was dawning upon his mind. He was face to face with a problem which he knew would tax his entire supply of "brains, gall, an' luck."
The surveyor, observing the expression upon his face, surmised its meaning, and his eyes twinkled.
"Catch on?" he drawled.
"But where do I come in?" Abner questioned.
"Oh, you're in already."
"Like the toad in the swill-pail, it seems to me. Not there by choice. But what am I to git out of it? That's what I want to know."
"Get out of it! Why, man, you'll be lucky to get out of it alive, same as the toad."
"I will, eh? An' why?"
"Simply because you've allowed that hill of gravel to remain there to endanger the world. That's about the first thing they'll tell you, and they'll put up such a big talk that you'll be glad to pay out your bottom dollar to help them take