"You—you will let them?" he gasped.
Phyllis was watching the millionaire. He shrugged.
"It'll help to manure the soil—for next year," he said indifferently.
"But—but—the loss!" Frank's protest came in an awed whisper.
Hendrie smiled.
"That's up to me," he said enigmatically. Then he faced round, and fixed Frank with his steady eyes. "See here, listen. You don't just reckon all this means to me—your coming and telling me this, and that other—that you've quit Austin Leyburn," he said. "It's put something into me. I can't just explain—now. But I want to tell you of other things. There's things in my mind just now that make matters like the burning of my crop, yes, and even the shooting up of niggers seem kind of small. Don't think I'm standing for a racket like that. No, sir. We'll see those black devils right, or—— However, it's about this Leyburn. Guess you're right. He's got a grievance, and it's so big it's got to come to a burst up between us. One of us'll have to get right down and out." He drew a deep breath, and his manner became thoughtful. "Guess it'll have to be Leyburn," he said, after a pause. "Yes, there's work for me yet." Suddenly he looked up with a question in his eyes. "Say, boy, you don't owe me a hell of a lot. And yet you come to me with—all this?" He gazed thoughtfully, studying the strong, earnest young face before him.
"I told you I hadn't thought of coming until——" Frank broke off as Phyllis completed the explanation.
"I persuaded him, Mr. Hendrie. You see——"
"I guessed that." Hendrie nodded. Then he smiled. "Guess it's generally a woman fixes things easy for men-folk, when the road's rough."
Then quite suddenly he leaned forward in his chair, his great hands gripping its arms with enormous force.