cure the horses.

"Well," he said, "as I'm going to call on Mr. Grant, I'll see what he
has to say. If I'm not back in time, Mr. West will give you supper."

"Then Grant's standing in with you and the temperance folks?"

It struck George that he had been incautious, but he could not
determine whether the man had blundered or not. His question suggested
some knowledge of the situation, but an accomplice of the offenders
would, no doubt, have heard of the part Grant's hired man had played.

"I don't see how that concerns you," he replied. "You'll have to wait
until I return if you want the team."

He rode on, but he had not gone far when he met Beamish, of the Sachem.

"I was coming over to see you," the man told him. "You bought that
young Hereford bull of Broughton's, didn't you?"

George was surprised at the question, but he answered that he had done
so.

"Then would you sell him?"

"I hadn't thought of it."

"Guess that means I'll have to tempt you," Beamish said. "I want the
beast."

He named a price that struck George as being in excess of the animal's
value; and then explained:

"I've seen him once or twice before he fell into Broughton's hands; the
imported Red Rover strain is marked in him, and a friend of mine, who's
going in for Herefords, told me not to stick at a few dollars if I
could pick up such a bull."

This was plausible, but not altogether satisfactory, and George,
reflecting that a buyer does not really praise what he means to
purchase, imagined that there was something behind it.

"I'm not likely to get a better bid," he admitted. "But I must ask if
the transaction would be complete? Would you expect anything further
from me in return?"

Beamish regarded him keenly, with a faint smile.

"Well," he said, "I certainly want the bull, but you seem to
understand. Leave it at that; I'm offering to treat you pretty
liberally."

"So as to prevent my assisting Flett in any way or taking a part in
Hardie's campaign?"

"I wouldn't consider it the square thing for you to do," Beamish
returned quietly.

George thought of the man who was waiting at the homestead for the
team. It was obvious that an attempt was being made to buy him, and he
strongly resented it.

"Then I can only tell you that I won't make this deal. That's the end
of the matter."

Beamish nodded and started his horse, but he looked back as he rode off.

"Well," he called, in a meaning tone, "you may be sorry