"Fourteen thousand!" Bunch repeated slowly. "Sure, I will. If you
can Morgan that amount I'll make good with the necessary documents,
and then you and your family troubles may sit around on fly paper
in Jiggersville for the rest of your natural lives for all I care."

I explained to Bunch that I wanted the deed made out in the name of
Peter Grant for the reason that Uncle Peter was a bigger farmer
than I, and in short order the preliminary arrangements were
completed to the satisfaction and relief of both parties concerned.

That evening I went back to Jiggersville feeling as light as a pin
feather on a young duck.

Uncle Peter could have the property; Bunch could buy his sister
another castle, and I was ahead of the game just $6,000, more than
enough to square me for all the green paper I had torn up at the
track.

Of course, it did look as though Uncle Peter had been whipsawed,
but when I considered the bundles the old gentleman had stored away
in the vaults, and when I remembered his eagerness to cough, I
simply couldn't produce one pang of conscience.

Two days later Bunch had a certified check for $14,000 and Uncle
Peter was the happy owner of the country estate.

"We will live with you and Aunt Martha a little while," I said to
him; "but if you have no objection I'd like to buy a small lot down
near the brook from you and build a bit of a cage there for
ourselves."