“I can” replied Bob McGraw doggedly. “I can.”
“All right then, you do it. Put that trick over, Bob, and I'll take off my hat to you.”
“You may keep your hat on your head. I want $39,000.”
“Do the impossible and I'll give it to you—without security.”
“Taken” said Bob McGraw. “I'll hold you to that, Mr. Dunstan. I'll simply round up fifty paupers, or their equivalent, with a constitutional right to purchase state lieu land and permit me to pay for it for them. Then after I have secured the land for them I will buy it back from them—”
Homer Dunstan roared with laughter. He pointed a bony finger at Bob McGraw.
“Young man, the right to purchase state lieu land is a strictly personal one and it is unlawful for one person to purchase for another. Of course you can buy it back, Bob, but the attorney-general will have a leg-iron on you before the ink is dry on your check. Transfer of title under such circumstances would be looked upon as bona-fide evidence of fraud, unless your clients could prove conclusively that they had parted with their lands for a valuable consideration—”
Bob McGraw in turn pointed his finger at Dunstan. “Ah, that's the weak point in the law, Mr. Dunstan” he exulted. “A valuable consideration. I can beat that. I'll give my clients ten dollars per acre for lands which cost them one dollar and a quarter, and there isn't a lawyer in the land—yourself included—who wouldn't consider that a valuable consideration.”
“McGraw,” said Dunstan rising impatiently, “you're a consummate ass! Where the devil do you expect to get $320,000 to buy their land from them? I suppose you think I'll help you with that, also. Your stupidity annoys me, Robert. Damme, sir, you're light in the upper story.”
Bob McGraw laughed aloud. “I won't need it. All I shall ever ask of you is that first $39,000. The water I have bottled up in the Sierra will make the land worth three hundred dollars an acre. Don't you see where I can afford to pay ten dollars per acre for it?”