"Sure," said Riles. "He worked for Harris, until they had a row and he lit out. It kind o' balled Harris up, too, although he'd never admit it. If he'd Travers there it'd be easier for him t' get away now."
"Where's Harris going?"
"He ain't goin'; he's comin'. Comin' out here in a few days after me.
I'm his kind o' advance guard, spyin' out the land."
"You don't say? Well, see and make him come through with the expenses. If I was travelling for Jack Harris I wouldn't be sleeping in a hen-coop like this. He's worth yards of money, ain't he?"
"Oh, some, I guess, but perhaps not so much more'n his neighbours."
"Nothing personal, Riles. You've got to get over that narrowness if you're going to get into the bigger game I've been telling you about. I don't care how much you're worth—how much is Harris bringing with him?"
"Couple of hundred dollars, likely."
"I wouldn't show my hand for that. How much can he raise?"
"Well, supposin' he sold the old farm—"
"Now don't do any reckless supposing. Will he sell the farm?"