“Business is business,” replied Ashton with all his old cynicism. “I’ll not say that H. V. Leslie is 172 crooked, but I never knew of his coming out of a deal second best.”
“Well, at any rate, it’s white of Blake to tell us beforehand what he intends to do if he sees a chance of a practical project.”
“Has he told you everything?” scoffed Ashton.
“How about his offer to drop the whole matter and not go into it at all?” rejoined Knowles.
Ashton hesitated to reply. For one thing, he was momentarily nonplused, and, for another, the Blakes had treated him as a gentleman. But a fresh upwelling of bitterness dulled his conscience and sharpened his wits.
“It may have been to throw you off your guard,” he said. “Blake is deep, and he has had old Leslie to coach him ever since he married Genevieve. He could have laid his plans,––looked over the ground, and found out just what are your rights here,––all without your suspecting him.”
“Well, I’m not so sure––”
“Have you told him what lands you have deeds to?”
“No, but if he knows as much about the West as I figure he does, he can guess it. Fence every swallow of get-at-able water to be found on my range this time of year, and you won’t have to dig a posthole off of land I hold in fee simple. Plum Creek sinks just below where Dry Fork junctions.” 173
“But you can’t have all the water?” exclaimed Ashton incredulously.