“What’s them?” inquired the Cap’n, as though he hoped that he might at least have these tenants on his worthless acres.

“Woods names for things that there ain’t none of,” vouchsafed Mr. Crowther.  “You owe me for twenty-two days’ work, nine shillin’s a day, amountin’ to—­”

“Here!  Take that and shut up!” barked the Cap’n, shoving bills at him.  Then he wagged a stubby finger under Mr. Crowther’s nose.  “Now you mark well what I say to you!  This thing stays right here among us.  If I hear of one yip comin’ from you about the way I’ve been done, I’ll come round to your place and chop you into mince-meat and feed you to that animile there!”

“Oh, I’m ashamed enough for you so that I won’t ever open my mouth,” cried Mr. Crowther.  He went out through the gate, dragging his sulky captive.

“And you needn’t worry about me, neither,” affirmed Mr. Bodge, who had been standing unnoted in the shadow of the woodbine.

“Of course,” he continued, “I ain’t got so thick with either of you gents as some others has in this place, never likin’ to push myself in where I ain’t wanted.  But I know you are both gents and willin’ to use them right that uses you right.”

It was not exactly a veiled threat, but it was a hint that checked certain remarks that the Cap’n was about to address to the eavesdropper.

Mr. Bodge took advantage of the truce, and seated himself on the edge of the porch, his peg-leg sticking straight out in forlorn nakedness.

“Investments is resky things in these days, Cap’n Sproul.  Gold-mines—­why, you can’t see through ’em, nor the ones that run ’em.  And mark what has been done to you when you invested in the forest primeval!  I knowed I was comin’ here at just the right time.  I’ve got a wonderful power for knowin’ them things.  So I came.  I’m here.  You need a good investment to square yourself for a poor one.  Here it is!” He pulled off his dented derby and patted his bald head.

“Skatin’-rink?” inquired the Cap’n, sarcastically.

“Brains!” boomed Mr. Bodge, solemnly.  “But in these days brains have to be backed with capital.  I’ve tried to fight it out, gents, on my own hook.  I said to myself right along, ’Brains has got to win in the end, Bodge.  Keep on!’ But have they?  No!  Five hundred partunts, gents, locked up in the brains of Eleazar Bodge!  Strugglin’ to get out!  And capital pooled against me!  Ignoramuses foolin’ the world with makeshifts because they’ve got capital behind ’em to boost them and keep others down—­and Bodge with five hundred partunts right here waitin’.”  Again he patted the shiny sphere shoved above the riot of hair and whiskers.

The Cap’n scrutinized the surface with sullen interest.

“They’d better stay inside, whatever they are you’re talkin’ about,” he growled.  “They couldn’t pick up no kind of a livin’ on the outside.”