many a good dollar for buildin' sites.

"The second summer brought Fred Orcutt, an' I practically give him the
best lot of the whole outfit to build his bank on. The town outgrew
the wooden store an' I built this one, addin' the annex later, an' I
ripped out the old dam an' put in a concrete dam an' a power plant that
furnished light an' power for all Terrace City. Money was comin' in
fast an' I invested it here an' there--Michigan, an' Minnesota, an'
Winconsin pine, an' the Lord knows what not. Then come the panic, an'
I found out almost over night that I was land poor. I needed cash, or
credit at the bank, or I had to take a big loss. I went to see Fred
Orcutt--I banked with him, those days, an' he knew the fix I was in.
Yes, the bank would be glad to accommodate me all right; if you could
of been there an' heard Fred Orcutt lay down his terms you'd know just
how damn glad they'd of been to accommodate me. It kind of stunned me
at first, an' then I saw red--the man I'd befriended in more ways than
one, just layin' back till he had me in his clutches! Well, I lit out
an' told him just what I thought of him--an' he got it in log camp
English. It never fazed him. He just sat there leanin' back in his
chair, bringin' the points of his fingers together an' drawin' 'em
apart again, an' lookin' me square in the face with them pale blue
fishy eyes of his. When I'd used up all the oaths an' epithets in
common use, an' some new ones, an' had to quit, he says, in the same
cold, even voice that he'd used in layin' down his terms, he says,
'You're a little excited now, John, and I'll not hold it against you.
Just drop in sometime to-morrow or next day and we'll fix up the
papers.'"

"I walked out of the bank with a wild scheme in my head of going to
Detroit or Chicago for the money. But I knew it was no use--and so did