"It's rotten from our standpoint. Can't you get away from your supreme self for a moment? Can't you appreciate what it means to us?"
"I know exactly what it means, but I can't help it. You know—but you can't help it. What are you going to do, anyway?"
"I don't know," she admitted, thinking of her conversation with Casey Dunne.
"You're sure you don't? We heard rumours—I may as well tell you—that the ranchers were prepared to make trouble for us."
"Then you've heard more than I have."
He eyed her a moment in silence. She returned his glance unwaveringly.
"I'm glad to know it," he said at length. "I don't want a row. Now, you people here—on this ranch—why don't you sell and get out?"
She thought it brutally put. "In the first place, we don't want to sell out. And in the next place who would buy?"
"That's so," he said. "I guess you wouldn't find many buyers. Still, if you got the chance——"
Whatever he was about to say was lost in a clamour of wheels and hoofs. Donald McCrae appeared in a buckboard drawn by a light team which he was holding with difficulty. He pulled them to a momentary halt.