e thousand would be an outside price for
a crazy man to pay for Talapus."

"Exactly," said Farwell. "McCrae, you'd better let me try to find you a
purchaser. For, if you hang on, just as sure as God made little red
apples you'll be praying to Him to send you a crazy man."

McCrae was silent for a long minute, his eyes fixed on his horses'
ears. "This is the first time," he said, "that it's been put up to me
straight. I knew, of course--we all knew--but nobody had the nerve to
come here and tell us so."

"Well, I have the nerve," said Farwell. "But I'm not saying it the way
you think I am. I'm not talking as an official; I'm talking as a
friend--as I'd like a man to talk to me if I were in your fix. I'm
trying to get you to stand from under. Here's the situation, as plainly
as I can put it: If you can't get water you will be forced to sell, and
the best you can get is grazing-land prices. You know that. On the
other hand, if you will sell now I think I can get you the price you
named. Understand, I'm not doing this for a commission. I don't want
one, and I wouldn't take one. I think the railway would buy on my
recommendation if I put it strongly enough; and I'd do that for you
people because--oh, well, just because I would. Now, there it is,
McCrae, and it's up to you."

McCrae eased his team. His big shoulders seemed to droop, as if a heavy
weight had been laid upon them. He fought his temptation in the
darkness.

"No," he said at last, "I won't sell. But I'm obliged to you all the
same. If the railway would buy us all out----"

"No!" snapped Farwell. "So that's why you won't sell. You think your
friends will hold out, too. You've got a sort of a pool. It won't do
you any good. The rest of them haven't the sand. I'll bet there isn't
another man who would turn down such an offer as I've made to you. It
will be each man for himself pretty soon."

"You're wrong," said McCrae. "We'll stay with each other. Casey Dunne
had an offer from York. He didn't take it."

"Dunne is a fool!" rasped Farwell. Never guarded in speech, his
instinctive hostility flared into hot words. "He won't get the chance
again. He's one man we _won't_ buy."

"I'm another," McCrae retorted swiftly. "Look here, Mr. Farwell, I was
in this country when its only crop was buffalo hides and bad Indians.
Land!--you couldn't give it away. I can show you a town with hotels and
banks and paved streets and electric lights--a fine little town.
Twenty-od