her tenants there won't be much left for
Lang and Grey," he rejoined. "My experience is that the money you sink in
improvements is gone for good."

"They must be made, for all that; particularly just now when a
dissatisfied spirit is spreading among the farmers. Askew is showing them
what can be done by the proper use of capital."

"Askew!" Osborn exclaimed. "Father and son, the Askews have been the
origin of the worst trouble I've had."

Hayes was willing to indulge Osborn's rancor and derived a rather
malicious satisfaction from seeing him annoyed. Besides, he did not want
to dwell upon the mortgage.

"I wonder whether you know Askew has bought Drysdale's sheep?"

"I did not know. I sold the flock to Graham."

"Then Askew must have bought them soon afterwards, unless he sent Graham
to make the deal with you."

Osborn's face got red. "A shabby trick! Unthinkably shabby, after he
forced up the price." He paused, and tried to control his anger. "But why
did he buy that second-class lot?"

"There was a Carlside ram."

"Only fit for mutton; I studied the animal."

"Oh, well! Askew, no doubt, thinks he is a judge. I imagine he bought the
others in order to get the ram."

"He cheated me," said Osborn, with a savage frown. "The fellow's a
cunning rogue. I wish he hadn't come back--confound him!" He pulled
himself up and added: "However, about the mortgage. I suppose I must
agree to Fisher's terms. See him and arrange the thing as soon as
possible."

Hayes went away and Osborn lighted a cigar. He had a disturbing feeling
that he had been rash. The money would not last long and if he had not
borrowed it, he might have paid the interest on other loans. Buying the
sheep had really decided him to give the mortgage, since it had made him
feel keenly the embarrassment of having very little money at command.
There was another thing; Hayes wanted him to borrow the fresh sum,
although a prudent agent would try to keep the estate out of debt. He
could not see Hayes' object and felt suspicious, but while he pondered it
began to rain and he went into the house.

It rained all day and at dusk the mist had crept down the hills. The long
grass in the meadow bent before the deluge and slanted from the wind. The
becks began to roar in the gyhlls, and threads of foam glimmered in the
mist. A hoarse turmoil rose from the stream that fed the tarn, and an
angry flood, stained brown by peat, rose steadily up the dyke. There was
no