It was out now, and Langford sat silent while Dakota gazed into the distance that reached toward the nester’s cabin. Langford watched Dakota closely, but there was an absolute lack of expression in the latter’s face.
“How are you offering to pay the thousand?” questioned Dakota. “And when?”
“In cash, when Doubler isn’t here any more.”
Dakota looked up at him, his face a mask of immobility. “That sounds all right,” he said, with slow emphasis. “I reckon you’ll put it in writing?”
Langford’s eyes narrowed; he smiled craftily. “That,” he said smoothly, “would put me in your power. I have never been accused of being a fool by any of the men with whom I have done business. Don’t you think that at my age it is a little late to start?”
“I reckon we don’t make any deal,” laughed Dakota shortly.
“We’ll arrange it this way,” suggested Langford. “Doubler is not the only man I want to get rid of. I want your land, too. But”—he added as he saw Dakota’s lips harden—“I don’t purpose to proceed against you in the manner I am dealing with Doubler. I flatter myself that I know men quite well. I’d like to buy your land. What would be a fair price for it?”
“Five thousand.”
“We’ll put it this way, then,” said Langford, briskly and silkily. “I will give you an agreement worded in this manner: ‘One month after date I promise to pay to Dakota the sum of six thousand dollars, in consideration of his rights and interest in the Star brand, provided that within one month from date he persuades Ben Doubler to leave Union county.’” He looked at Dakota with a significant smile. “You see,” he said, “that I am not particularly desirous of being instrumental in causing Doubler’s death—you have misjudged me.”
Dakota’s eyes met his with a glance of perfect knowledge. His smile possessed a subtly mocking quality—which was slightly disconcerting to Langford.