"Anyhow, let's get credit for grabbing a bargain," said Keith. "Bid her
in cheap. No use taking a big wad of money out of circulation even for a
few days."

"Ten thousand'll be enough. Say ten thousand six hundred, just to make
it sound better. Have to have two bidders there."

"Sure," agreed Keith. "I guess this'll teach our fat dreamer of dreams
not to get in the way of the cars."

Scattergood's stock had gone down in Coldriver. True, his hardware store
was thriving. In the two years his stock had increased from what his
seven hundred and fifty dollars, with credit added, would buy, to an
inventory of better than five thousand dollars, free of debt. It is true
also that with the last winter coming on he had looked about for a
chance to keep his small surplus at work for him, and his eyes had
fallen upon the item of firewood. In Coldriver were a matter of sixty
houses and a hotel, all of which derived their heat from hardwood
chunks, and cooked their meals on range fires with sixteen-inch split
wood. The houses were mostly of that large, comfortable, country variety
which could not be kept warm with one fire. Scattergood figured they
would burn on an average of fifteen cords of wood.

Now stove wood, to be really useful, must have seasoned a year. It is
not pleasant to build fires with green wood. Appreciating this,
Scattergood ambled about the countryside and bought up every available
stick of wood at prices of the day--and under, for he was a good buyer.
He secured a matter of a thousand cords--and then waited hopefully.

It was a small transaction, promising no great profits, but Scattergood