“Precisely—just as it stands.”
“Why—why, I don’t know as I ever figgered on a price, Dick. I’ve always looked on it as home, an’ a man gene’lly don’t——”
“I appreciate the way you feel—a place to hang your hat and go to when you can’t go anywhere else,” broke in Lennox genially. “But if you were offered a—well, a handsome price. You’ll agree with me that three hundred acres of it is worthless desert, while most of the remaining twenty is little better than pasture.”
“Just what do you c’nsider a handsome price?” asked Lemuel skeptically.
His visitor thoughtfully flicked the ash off his cigarette, into a tray.
“Say, seventy-five hundred dollars.”
“Seventy-five hundred!” burst out Lemuel. He opened his mouth to laugh but, observing the seriousness in the other’s face, the keenness with which the blue eyes were studying him, closed it again and rubbed his chin reflectively.
“You’ll admit that’s about double its value,” went on Lennox, in matter-of-fact tones. “To be perfectly frank, I have made inquiries, and find that you just might turn it for fifteen dollars an acre—providing you found the sort of person who would put up with the discomforts of the desert, some one looking for solitude and plenty of sun. So far as a man making a living there, why——”
“D’ye mean cash down? I don’t go much on this proposition of payments,” broke in the rancher.
“Cash—certainly. Furthermore, I’ve been authorized to give you a substantial sum to bind the bargain, our only stipulation being that the transfer be made as soon as possible.”