"So he told me. He must be running some sort of a blazer. Only, of course, it won't go. It's foolish of him to try."
The sheriff seemed to share Angus' view. Mr. Braden whispered to him. He frowned.
"You know the conditions of sale, young man?"
"I heard you state them."
"You are able to meet them?"
"May I point out," said Chetwood, "that you have not asked that question of any previous bidder. Why favor me?"
"Well—er—you see—" the sheriff was slightly embarrassed—"I understand that you are working for Mr. Mackay."
"Quite so. And what of it?"
"A man who can pay twenty-two thousand for a ranch doesn't often work on it as a hired man," the sheriff pointed out.
"It is absolutely none of your business, official or private, for whom, or for what, or at what I work," Chetwood retorted. "I make that bid, and I demand that you receive it."