Bill Conway turned upon him almost angrily. "What for?" he demanded.
"I own the Rancho Palomar. I forbid it. I have a good and sufficient reason."
"But, son, I can finance the confounded dam. I have it financed already."
"So have I—if I cared to accept favors."
Bill Conway approached and took his young friend by each shoulder. "Son," he pleaded, "please let me build this dam. I was never so plumb interested in any job before. I'll take a chance. I know what I'm going to do and how I'm going to do it, and you aren't going to be obligated the least little bit. Isn't John Parker stuck for it all, in the long run? Why, I've got that hombre by the short hair."
"I know, but long before you can collect from him you'll be financially embarrassed."
"Don't worry. I've been a miser all my life and I've got a lot of money hid out. Please, son, quit interfering with me. You asked me to help you out, I accepted and I'm going to go through until stopped by legal procedure. And if you have the law on me I'll never speak to you again."
"Your attitude doesn't fit in with my plans, Bill Conway."
"Yours don't fit in with mine. Besides, I'm older than you and if there was one thing your father taught you it was respect for your elders. Two heads are better than one. You crack right along and try to save your ranch in your way and I'll crack right along and try to save it my way. You pay your way and I'll pay mine. That's fair, isn't it?"
"Yes, but———"