Edmonds made a sign of agreement. He had without directly requesting him to do so led Hawtrey into showing him around the Range that afternoon, and having of necessity a practical knowledge of farming he had been impressed by all that he had noticed. The farm, which was a big one, had evidently been ably managed until a recent date, and he felt the strongest desire to get his hands on it. This, as he knew, would have been out of the question had Wyllard been at home, but with Hawtrey, upon whom he had a certain hold, in charge, the thing appeared by no means impossible.
“Oh, yes,” he replied. “I suppose he was reasonably liberal over your salary.”
“I don’t get one. I take a share of the margin after everything is paid.”
Edmonds carefully noted this. He was not sure that such an arrangement would warrant one in regarding Hawtrey as Wyllard’s partner, but he meant to gather a little more information upon that point.
“If wheat keeps on dropping there won’t be any margin at all next year, and that’s what I’m inclined to figure on,” he declared. “There are, however, ways a man with nerve could turn it to account.”
“You mean by selling wheat down.”
“Yes,” said Edmonds, “that’s just what I mean. Of course, there is a certain hazard in the thing. You can never be quite sure how the market will go, but the signs everywhere point to still cheaper wheat next year.”
“That’s your view?”
Edmonds smiled, and took out of his pocket a little bundle of market reports.
“Other folks seem to share it in Winnipeg, Chicago, New York, and Liverpool. You can’t get behind these stock statistics, though, of course, dead low prices are apt to cut the output.”