I sold the cattle in Winnipeg for excellent prices, and deducting my own share of the proceeds, took the first train westward to visit Lane, and paid him down three-fourths of the balance of the loan. Having bought wisdom dearly, I took a lawyer with me. Lane showed neither surprise nor chagrin, though he must have felt both, and I could almost admire the way he bore defeat. He was less a man than a money-making machine, and the more to be dreaded for his absence of passion. Rage was apparently as unknown to him as pity, and, though he knew he had lost Crane Valley, and with it the completion of a well-laid scheme, he actually pushed a cigar-box towards me as he signed the receipt. I drew a deep breath of relief as I passed the papers to the lawyer, for the harvest would more than cover what remained of the debt, and then I laid down certain sums on behalf of others. Lane smiled almost affably as he tossed the quittances upon the table.
"They're all in order, Rancher. A capable man don't need to use second-rate trickery, and I'm open to allow that the bull-frog was hard to squash," he said.
I pocketed the documents and went out in silence. Speech would have been useless, because the man had no sensibilities that could be wounded; but the interview struck me as a grotesquely commonplace termination of a struggle which had cost me months of misery. Indeed, I found it hard to convince myself that what had happened was real, and the heavy burden flung off at last. Being by no means a mere passionless money-making machine, I had, nevertheless, not finished with Lane.
It was evening the next day when I reached Bonaventure, and was shown into the presence of its owner, who had lately returned there from the East. He looked haggard, and did not rise out of the chair he lounged in, though his voice was cordial. "You have been successful, Ormesby. I can see it by your face," he said.
"I have, sir," I answered. "More so than I dared to hope, and I fancy you will be astonished when you count these bills. The Bonaventure draft played a leading part in my release, and now I find it difficult to realize that the luck has changed at last."
It was not quite dark outside, but the curtains were drawn, and Haldane sat beside a table littered with papers under a silver reading-lamp. His face looked curiously ascetic and thin, but the smile in his keen eyes was genial. Boone sat opposite him smoking, and nodded good-humoredly to me.
"You will soon get used to prosperity, and there is no occasion for gratitude," Haldane said, tossing the roll of paper money across the table, but taking up the account I laid beside it. "I notice that you have earned me a profit of twenty per cent. You have tolerable business talents in your own direction, Ormesby, and I shall expect your good counsel in the practical management of Bonaventure which I have undertaken."
"The management of Bonaventure?" I said, and Haldane's forehead grew wrinkled as he nodded.
"Exactly. The verdict has been given. No more exciting corners or supposititious heaping up of unearned increments for me. I am sentenced by the specialists to a dormant life and open-air exercise, and have accordingly chosen the rearing of cattle on the salubrious prairie."
I guessed what that sentence meant to a man of his energies; but he had accepted it gracefully, and I was almost startled when he said: "Do you know that I envied you, Ormesby, even when things looked worst for you?"