“How do you mean, Dan?”
“I am taking all the she-stuff and stackers for myself. Let Mr. Pattison have the fours.”
“But what’re you going to do?”
“I am thinking of starting a Northern ranch for myself. It don’t take me long to decide either. I believe Mr. Pattison is right. There’s where the money is. Besides, I’m leaving Texas before long.”
Pattison turned toward him with his quizzical smile, estimating him after his own fashion.
“You bid me up, young man,” said he; “but you’ve sold this herd, yearlings and all, at twenty straight on the prairie.
“Now, we’ve got plenty time left—two minutes by the watch. I’ll give you just a minute and a half to think of me as your partner in my ranch on the Smoky Hill, myself to own half this stuff you’ve just bought in, you to trail a fresh herd up to us next year and to run this upper ranch for me—all dependent on your investigation of me back East, preferably by telegraph to-night. I’ve got the land, you’ve got the cows.
“I’ll show you how to get three-four-five cents a pound for beef on the hoof. What do you say?”
McMasters turned his own cool gray eyes upon the other, regarding him with a like smile as their eyes met, and their hands.
“We have traded,” said he quietly.