"Yep."
"Um. Any—any news fr'm down thet way 'bout this part o' th' country?"
Braden fell to admiring his ring. "No, sir, no. Didn't hear nothin' particular."
The section-boss fidgeted. "S'pose y' know they's some talk 'bout a railroad comin' this way," he said carelessly.
"Don't go much on that talk. Ten years, twenty years—maybe. Too early yet."
Lancaster's face lengthened. He blinked in dismay.
"My idea," went on Braden, "is cows. Goin' t' be a lot of money in 'em, sure as you're alive. Hear Clark's made a good thing of his'n."
"Cows!" said Lancaster, in disgust. "Cows don' help a country; don' raise th' price o' lan'."
"Cows or no cows, your place here's worth a nice little sum," protested the other, condescendingly; "hunderd, anyway."
Lancaster stared. "Hunderd!" he cried. "You got th' grass staggers. Five hunderd."