“Eh?” McLagan turned. His Irish face was alight with sudden interest. “Guess I ain’t busy fer ten minutes.”
“That’s more than enough,” said Jim, readily. “It’s about that land I was speaking to you of the other day. I told you those things about myself––because of that. As I said, you didn’t know much of me, except my work for you.”
McLagan nodded, and chewed the end of his cigar. His keen eyes were studying the other’s face. At last he removed his cigar, and spat out a bit of tobacco leaf.
“I know all I need to,” he said cordially. “The proposition was one hundred and sixty acres for a homestead, with grazin’ rights. You want a lease. Gettin’ married?”
“It might happen that way,” grinned the foreman somewhat sheepishly.
“Found the leddy?”
Jim nodded.
“Marryin’s a fool game anyway.”
“That’s as maybe.”
McLagan shrugged.