in the form of a letter to his chief, the
head of the land department, wherein he told the bald and shining truth
without even a mental reservation. And he intimated tactfully that if
the department had another man whom they considered better fitted to
deal with the unfortunate local conditions, he, Sleeman, would be
charmed to assist him, or to go elsewhere in their service, if that
seemed best to their aggregate wisdom. He worded his part of this
letter very carefully, for he had seen as good men as himself
incontinently fired merely because they could not deny themselves the
luxury of a petulant phrase.

His letter bore fruit; for Carrol, the mighty head of the land
department, came down to see things for himself.

Carrol, however, suffered from a species of myopia not uncommon among
gentlemen who have for a long time represented large interests. He had
so come to look upon Western Airline as an irresistible force, that the
concept of an immovable body was quite beyond him. He had nothing but
contempt for any person or set of persons--corporations with equal
capital always excepted--rash enough to oppose any of its plans.

"Now, see here," he said at a conference with Sleeman and Farwell. "We
can't afford to have our sales blocked this way. Our ditches will carry
water now, and the dam itself is nearly completed. Open up the ditches
and take all the water you can. Then we'll see whether there is
anything in these yarns."

"But if we take water before we need it, we simply stiffen their hand,"
Sleeman objected. "We give them legitimate grounds to kick."

"They'll kick, anyway," said Carrol. "We need water to grow grass--if
anybody should ask you. The sooner we take it the sooner we shall be
able to acquire these ranches. Once the men see what they're up against
they'll ask us to buy, which we'll do on our own terms. That's the
programme. What do you think, Farwell?"

"You're the doctor," Farwell replied.

"You don't anticipate any trouble?"

"Not a bit," said Farwell contemptuously. "They'll howl, of course. Let
'em. In a month they'll eat out of your hand."

"Quite so," said Carrol; "that's how I look at it."

"There's one man, though," said Farwell, "whom I'd like to see get a
fair price. That's McCrae, who owns Talapus Ranch. It's the biggest and
best in the country."

"Will he sell now?"

"He might."

"What has he got, and what does he want for it?"

Farwell told him.

"What is it worth, Sleema