“You mean ship the sheep?”
Wentz stroked his mustache.
“That’s about the size of it.”
“But sheep are way down,” she protested. “It would take almost the two bands at present to pay off the debt and shipping expenses.”
“That’s not our funeral.”
“And the leases are of no value without stock for them.”
Mr. Wentz lowered his silken lashes and suggested smoothly as he continued to caress the treasured growth gently:
“Neifkins might be induced to take the leases off your hands at a nominal figure.”
Mr. Pantin cooling his heels at the outer portals smiled. He knew what Kate did not—that Neifkins was one of the directors.
“But the notes are not due until early next summer—after shearing. Uncle Joe told me so.”