ody where it is."

Farwell stared after him for a moment, a little puzzled and by no means
satisfied with himself. He had come openly contemptuous of the
ranchers, thinking of them as rough, unlettered farmers who must
necessarily stand in awe of him. But here was a different type. "Pretty
smooth proposition, that Dunne," he growled to himself. "'Water finds
the weak spots,' hey! Now, I wonder what he meant by that?"

He picked up his grip, and walked up into the town, finding the
company's office without difficulty, and introduced himself to Sleeman,
the sales agent, whom he had never met.

Mr. Sleeman possessed a shrewd eye, and a face indicative of an ability
to play a very good game. He was in his shirt sleeves for greater
comfort, and he smoked particularly strong plug tobacco in a brier
pipe.

"What's in these yarns, anyhow?" Farwell asked, when they had got down
to business.

"Ask me something easier," Sleeman replied. "I gave headquarters all I
heard. If I were you I'd keep my eyes open."

"I'll do that," said Farwell. "These fellows always do a lot of
talking, and let it go at that."

"Not here," said Sleeman. "The men who will be affected aren't doing
any talking at all. That looks bad to me. They are just standing pat
and saying nothing. But you can bet they are doing some thinking.
Mighty bad lot to run up against if they start anything--old-timers,
ex-punchers, prospectors, freighters, and fur men, with a sprinkling of
straight farmers. The worst of it is that these rumours are hurting us
already, and they'll hurt us worse."

"How?"

"Landlookers hear them, and shy off. No man wants to buy into a feud
with his neighbours--to buy land with water that somebody else thinks
he ought to have. Before I can make a showing in actual sales this
thing has got to be settled."

"Huh!" said Farwell. "Well, I'll finish the job, and turn the water
down the ditches, and that's all I have to do. I met one of these
fellows at the station--Dunne, his name is."

"Oh, you met Casey Dunne. And what do you think of him?"

"Don't like him; he's too smooth. Looked me square in the eye, and told
me to be careful with sidehill ditches, and so on, just as if it didn't
affect him at all. Too innocent for me. I had a notion to tell him he
wasn't fooling me a little bit."

"H'm!" said Sleeman. "Well, I give Casey credit for being a good man.
He has a big stake here--owns a lot of land besides his ranch. It's
make or bre