He looked at me sharply to see if I was joking, but I was perfectly
sober.

"Harvestin' yer crops?"

"Yes," I said, the fancy growing suddenly upon me, "and just now I've
been taking a crop from the field you think you own."

I waved my hand to indicate his high-field pasture.

"Don't I own it?"

"No, Horace, I'm sorry to say, not all of it. To be frank with you,
since I came here, I've quietly acquired an undivided interest in that
land. I may as well tell you first as last. I'm like you, Horace, I'm
reaching out in all directions."

I spoke in as serious a voice as I could command: the tone I use when I
sell potatoes. Horace's smile wholly disappeared. A city feller like me
was capable of anything!

"How's that?" he exclaimed sharply. "What do you mean? That field came
down to me from my grandfather Jamieson."

I continued to look at Horace with great calmness and gravity.

"Judging from what I now know of your title, Horace," said I, "neither
your grandfather Jamieson nor your father ever owned all of that field.
And I've now acquired that part of it, in fee simple, that neither they
nor you ever really had."