“Where did you get this. Did Mr. Holman——”
“Exactly.”
“I do not understand.”
“You will when that machine gets here.” Billy pointed to a car crossing the alfalfa. “They’s some people who carry this here stuff they call chivalry in their pocketbook. Holman’s a sweet, kind gentleman. Just now he’s coming to throw me off the ranch.”
The other did not answer. He was watching the machine coming from the ranch house. It drew up at the shed. Holman was at the wheel and there was evidently something on his mind; at the sight of Arthur Ross he flushed slightly.
“Ah, Mr. Ross.” Apparently he did not know what to say. “It is a fine morning. Is there—er—something that you want?”
“Decidedly,” answered the young man, “but perhaps you had better talk to my friend here. He’s my agent.”
Holman did not conceal his anger now. He turned to Billy Magee.
“What do you want here! Do you know the rules of the Holman Land and Water Company? Git out!”
Billy was modest to a tantalizing degree. He took off his hat and smiled, half in triumph and half in amusement.