“But it wouldn’t be true.”

“It’s got to be true.  Hain’t I sayin’ it’s true?  And then you go to your pa and tell him the deacon wants to make up, and begs his pardon out and out.  Tell both of ’em to be at my store at three o’clock, but don’t tell neither t’other’s to be there.”

At three o’clock Deacon Pettybone and Elder Hooper came face to face in Scattergood’s place of business.

“Howdy, gents?” said Scattergood.  “Lookin’ forward to bein’ mutual grandads, I calc’late.  Must be quite a feelin’ to know you’re in line to be a grandad.”

“Huh!” grunted the deacon.

“Wumph!” coughed the elder.

“To think of you old coots dandlin’ a baby on your knees—­and buyin’ it pep’mint candy and the Lord knows what, and walkin’ down the street, each of you holdin’ one of its hands and it walkin’ betwixt you....  Dummed if I don’t congratulate you.”

The deacon looked at the elder and the elder looked at the deacon.  They grinned, frostily at first, then more broadly.

“By hek!  Eph,” said the deacon.

“I’ll be snummed!” said the elder, and they shook hands there and then.

“Step back here a minute.  I got a mite of business.  You won’t want the nuisance of that stage line—­with a grandson to fetch up.  I’m kinder hankerin’ to run the thing—­not that it’ll be much of an investment.”

“What you offerin’?” asked the deacon.

Scattergood mentioned the sum.  “Cash,” he concluded.

“Calc’late we better sell,” said the elder.

An hour later, with the papers in his pocket to prove ownership, Scattergood visited the stores of his rivals, Locker, Kettleman, Lumley, and Penny.

“Gentlemen,” he said, “you been a-tryin’ to crowd me out of business.  I hain’t made a cent of profit f’r two months, and I calc’late on a profit of two hunderd and fifty a month.  Jest gimme your check for five hunderd dollars and I’ll take your stocks of hardware off’n your hands at, say, fifty cents on the dollar, and we’ll call it a day.”

“Scattergood, we got you where we want you.  You can’t hold out another sixty days.”

“Maybe.  But, gentlemen, I guess we kin do business.  I jest bought the only means of transportin’ goods, wares, and merchandise into Coldriver.  Beginnin’ now, rates for freight goes up.  I’ve studied the law, and there hain’t no way to pervent me.  I kin charge what I want for freighting and what I want will be so much not a one of you kin do business....  And I’ll put in groceries and what not, myself.  Gittin’ my freight free, I calc’late to under-sell you quite consid’able....  Kin we do business?”

The enemy went into executive session.  They surrendered.  Scattergood pocketed a check for five hundred dollars, and came into possession of a fine stock of hardware at fifty cents on the dollar.  Likewise, he owned the stage line and franchise, controlling the only right of way by which a railroad could reach up the valley.  It had required politics, marrying and giving in marriage, and patience, to accomplish it, but it was done.