t
the news, but at the time of its announcement.

"I like you," Angus admitted, "but I don't know a great deal about you.
You're working for wages which aren't very large. They won't keep two."

"No more they will," Chetwood replied. "Jean suggests that I take up a
homestead." Angus shook his head. "You don't like the idea? No more do
I. I shan't do it."

"Have you any idea what you will do? I gathered that you lost what money
you had in some fool investment. You never told me what it was."

"I don't look on it as totally lost," Chetwood responded. "It may be all
right some day. One thing I'll promise you, old man, I won't marry Jean
till I have something definite to go on."

"Good boy!" Angus approved. "That's sense. I'm going to look up a bunch
of land in one of the new districts. When I find what I want Jean will
come and live with us, of course. Then we might make some
arrangement--if you want to buck the ranching game."

When Chetwood had gone, presumably to find Jean, Angus was restless. He
liked Chetwood, but the Lord alone knew when the latter would be in
shape to support a wife unless somebody helped him. He would have to do
that. The fancy took him to walk around the ranch for a last look as
owner. As he walked a hundred recollections crowded upon him. Here there
had been a good crop in one year; there a failure in another. Here was
the place where he had first held the handles of a plow. This was where
a team had run away with a mower. He arrived at the gate and looked
back over the fields. To-day they were his; to-morrow in all likelihood
they would belong to Braden.

Looking up the road he saw a light rig with two men. One of them was
standing up in it, apparently surveying his surroundings through a pair
of field glasses. Presently he sat down and the team came on. By the
gate the driver pulled up and nodded.

"Afternoon!" he said. He was a thickset, deeply tanned man of middle
age, with a shrewd, blue eye. He wore a suit which, though old, was of
excellently cut tweed, and his trousers were shoved into nailed
cruisers. His companion was younger, stout, round-faced and more
carefully dressed, but he, too, possessed a shrewd eye. Neither looked
like a rancher, and both were strangers to Angus. Between them rested an
instrument of some sort, hooded, which looked like a level.

"Nice ranch, this," said the driver, "Yours?"

"Yes."

"For sale?"

"Yes," Angus told him grimly.

"How much have yo