"You'll be doing nothing of the kind," Chetwood told him. "Do you think I'm such a dashed cad as that? I'm buying the ranch for you, of course. You can pay me what I'll pay Braden, when you like, and if you never feel like it nobody will worry."
Angus stared at him dazedly. For the first time in years his eyes were misty; but his innate pride still held.
"It's good of you," he said. "Oh, it's damned good of you, but—I can't stand for it."
"Afraid you'll jolly well have to, my boy," Chetwood grinned cheerfully. "You can't help yourself, you know."
"But I can't allow—"
"Don't I tell you, you'll have to. Don't be such a bally ass, or strike me pink if I don't punch your beastly head here and now! Can't you take a little help from a friend who would take it from you? Mrs. Angus, for heaven's sake make this lunatic listen to reason!"
Faith laughed happily. "He wouldn't let me help him," she said. "Give him time, Mr. Chetwood."
As Chetwood waited to comply with the necessary formalities Mr. McGinity touched him on the arm.
"I want to make a proposition to whoever owns that land—you or Mackay," he said. "I'd rather make it to you, because I can see you know more about business than he does. The Airline isn't any philanthropic institution, of course, but we'll play fair with you and Mackay."
"Thanks very much," said Chetwood, a twinkle in his eye.