"The fact is, father," he was saying, "as you yourself have said, one
bad crop of cotton would almost ruin us."
"But the prospects are good."
"What are prospects in March? No, father, this is the situation--three
good crops in succession will wipe off our indebtedness and leave us
facing only low prices and a scarcity of niggers; on the other hand--"
The father interrupted impatiently.
"Yes, on the other hand, if we plunge deeper in debt and betray our
friends we may come out millionaires or--paupers."
"Precisely," said Harry Cresswell, calmly. "Now, our plan is to take no
chances; I propose going North and looking into this matter thoroughly.
If he represents money and has money, and if the trust has really got
the grip he says it has, why, it's a case of crush or get crushed, and
we'll have to join them on their own terms. If he's bluffing, or the
thing looks weak, we'll wait."
It all ended as matters usually did end, in Harry's having his way. He
came downstairs, expecting, indeed, rather hoping, to find Taylor
impatiently striding to and fro, watch in hand; but here he was,
ungainly, it might be, but quite docile, drawing the picture of a
power-loom for Miss Cresswell, who seemed really interested. Harry
silently surveyed them from the door, and his face lighted with a new
thought.
Taylor, espying him, leapt to his feet and hauled out his watch.
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