Twenty-five or
fifty thousand was not to be despised, after all. As a matter of fact,
there were rumours that it was his eldest son who had settled the
business on his father's account.
Be that as it might, work was recommenced; the same engineer came
again with his gangs of men, and the work went on anew. The same work,
ay, but in a different fashion now, going backwards, as it were.
All seemed in regular order: the Swedish mine-owners had brought their
men, and dynamite and money--what could be wrong, anyway? Even Aronsen
came back again, Aronsen the trader, who had set his mind on buying
back Storborg from Eleseus.
"No," said Eleseus. "It's not for sale."
"You'll sell, I suppose, if you're offered enough?"
"No."
No, Eleseus was not going to sell Storborg. The truth was, he had
changed his mind somewhat as to the position; it was none so bad,
after all, to be owner of a trading station in the hills; he had a
fine verandah with coloured glass windows, and a chief clerk to do
all the work, while he himself went about the country travelling.
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