"I want the team, if I can get it at a reasonable figure; they're real good beasts with the imported Percheron strain strong in them," he said. "It will be a while before they're put up, and I'd be glad if you could ride round and let Flora know what's keeping me. I'd an idea she expected there might be some trouble to-day."
"I'll get off; but there's a mower yonder I would like. Will you buy it for me, if it goes at a fair price?"
"Certainly," promised Grant. "Tell Flora to give you supper; and if you ride back afterward by the trail, you'll meet me and I'll let you know about the mower."
George rode away shortly afterward, and Grant waited some time before he secured the team, after rather determined opposition. Finding nobody willing to lead the horses home, he hitched them to the back of his light wagon and set off at a leisurely pace. When he had gone a little distance, he overtook a man plodding along the trail. The fellow stopped when Grant came up.
"Will you give me a lift?" he asked.
The request is seldom refused on the prairie, and Grant pulled up his team.
"Get in," he said. "Where are you going?"
"North," answered the other, as he clambered up. "Looking for a job; left the railroad yesterday and spent the night in a patch of scrub. Heard there was stock in the bluff country; that's my line."
Grant glanced at the fellow sharply as he got into the wagon and noticed nothing in his disfavor. His laconic account of himself was borne out by his appearance.
"It's quite a way to the first homestead, if you're making for the big bluffs," he said. "You had better come along with me and go on in the morning."