"I assure you—"
"Or you may be as right as rain. I was too quick just now. But I am suspicious of every person I see trespassing in my fields."
"Who could, or would, do this wheat harm?"
"Let me tell you! When I bred my Mortgage Lifter Oats I was robbed of my seed, my standing grain was burned just before it was ready for the sickle, and cattle were turned in on my young oats, a field like this, and allowed to graze."
"The Mortgage Lifter Oats? The great new oat that Bonsall and Burgess, the seedsmen in Chicago, put out four years ago and which proved such a wonderful cropper?"
"The same."
"You bred that variety, Mr. Battick?"
"Yes. But I do not get the credit for it, nor did I get any of the money—a small fortune—that has been made through its sale. I do not hold Bonsall and Burgess at fault. They honestly bought the new seed of those who robbed me and were themselves aware of no crime having been committed."
"I never!"
"Yes, Mr. Strong. There are mighty mean people in this world. Where I lived before I came to this place there were other men living around me who gave some attention to the selection and breeding of new varieties of seed. You see, that clergyman who years ago made a clear twenty thousand dollars by breeding a famous muskmelon started us all to hunting for new types of vegetables, fruits, and grains.