“Calc’late to have title to a tree or two.”

“Good.  I came up to find out if you are in a position to swing a rather big contract—­to deliver us at the mill a minimum of twenty-five thousand cords of pulpwood?”

“Depends,” said Scattergood.

Mr. Blossom drew a jackknife from his pocket and began leisurely to sharpen a pencil.  It was a rather battered jackknife, and Scattergood noticed that one blade had been broken off.  He stretched out his hand.  “Jackknife’s kind of lame, hain’t it?  Don’t ’pear to be as stylish as the rest of you?”

“It is a bit dilapidated.”

“Got some good ones inside.  Fine line of jackknives.  Only carry the best.  Show ’em to you.”

He lifted himself out of the groaning chair and went into the store, to return with a dozen or more knives, which he showed to Mr. Blossom, and Mr. Blossom looked at them gravely.  He was smiling to himself.  A man who could interrupt a deal involving upward of a hundred thousand dollars to try to sell a jackknife certainly was not of a caliber to give serious worry to an astute business man.

“Recommend the pearl-handled one,” said Scattergood.  “Two dollars ‘n’ a half.”

“I’ll take it,” said Mr. Blossom, and he stuck his old knife in a post, replacing it in his pocket with the new purchase.

“Cash,” said Scattergood, and Mr. Blossom handed over the currency.

“Speakin’ of pulpwood,” said Scattergood, “how much you figger on payin’?”

Mr. Blossom named a price, delivered at the mill.

“Pay when?”

“On delivery.”

“When want it delivered, eh?  What date?”

“Before May first.”

“Water power or steam?” said Scattergood, somewhat irrelevantly.

“Both.  We’re putting in steam engines and boilers, but we’re going to depend mostly on water power.”

“Goin’ to build a dam, eh?  Big dam?”

“Yes.”

“Um!...  Stock company?”

“Yes.  We’ll be solid.  Capitalized for a quarter of a million and bonded for a quarter of a million.  Gives us half a million capital to start business.”

“Stock all sold?”

“Every share.”

“Who to?”

“Mostly in small blocks in Boston.”

“Um!...  Bonds sold?”

“Yes.”

“Who bought ’em?”

“They’re underwritten by the Commonwealth Security Trust Company.”

“Want to know!...  Got authority?  Vested with authority to put it in writin’?”

“The contract, you mean?”

“Calculate to mean that.”

“Yes.”

“Lawyer acrost the street,” said Scattergood.

“You can swing it?”

“Calculate to.”

“You have the capital to make good?”

“Know I have, don’t you?  Wouldn’t have come to me if you hadn’t?”

“You’ll have to borrow heavily.”

“My lookout, hain’t it?  Don’t need to worry you?”