Frank was startled. There was to have been no serious movement this year on the agricultural side. Only preparations. Why this sudden change of plans?
"This year?" he said.
"That's how I said," returned Leyburn dryly.
"But I thought——"
"I'll do the thinking, boy," said Leyburn quickly. Then he grinned. "Guess I've done most of it already. You're on?"
"Why, yes." Frank was perplexed. Nor had he any definite objection.
"Good." Leyburn picked his teeth with a match. Then he went on: "You'll make your headquarters at Everton. That's where Hendrie's place is. I've got men at work there. They've been there quite a while. We're taking up that nigger question there, and punching it home for all we're worth. It's a good lever for running up wages on. The wheat men will be easy—their crops are perishable. If Hendrie don't squeal quick, he's got miles of wheat growing," he said significantly. "Of course he's only one. But he's good to work on. Now, just watch around there. Don't do a heap of big talk. The other'll do that. You'll go around the farms, the smaller ones, and do some private talk. You'll superintend the whole of that section. Guess there's a hundred and more farms in it. I'll hand you a schedule of 'em."
As Leyburn finished speaking, Frank stirred uneasily.
"Must I go on this work?" he asked hesitatingly.
Leyburn looked up sharply. There was a sparkle in his eyes.