Bart mounted the ridge and joined them.
“What’s offered for my farm?” he greeted.
“I’m not buying on the far side of the ridge,” said Carver. “Only down below.”
“Then I’ll present it to you,” Bart returned cheerfully. “By the way, you’re owing me three hundred or thereabouts on our little flier in steers. If you could let me have a piece of it I’ll trickle into Caldwell in the morning. I’ve got pressing business there in town.”
“I’ve invested that money for you,” Carver said. “I’ve reserved scrip to cover your hundred and sixty acres. I’ll turn it over to you when you make your filing. They’ll issue a patent and then you and Molly will have some place to come back to whenever you get weary of moving round. You’ll be owing me a little extra on the cost of the scrip but you can pay it off whenever it comes handy in the future.”
Bart sighed gustily.
“I always did lean towards owning a farm that I didn’t have to live on,” he stated, “and you’ve showed me the way. You always did treat me all right, Don, and I thank you. As long as I already owe you money I’d as leave owe you more. I’ll remember it better that way. Lend me twenty. I suspect the boys will be looking at their hole cards somewhat in your bunk house this evening and I’m always curious to see which one of the fifty-two cards each man has got in the hole.”
Carver laughed and handed him the money.
“We’ll turn the house over to Molly to-night,” he said. “I’ve got a tent cached in the bunk house that you can pitch over there on your place to-morrow.”
The girl rested her hand on Carver’s arm as Bart left them.