“Do you know him, Mister––Mister Phil?”
“I have heard of him. He left here some time ago for the other side of the Line.”
“I fawncied so,” said Hannington. “I’m looking for that miserable thieving josser.
“Well, I hired a horse and went out with the Barney fellow to see the rawnch, right away. A jolly nice place it was, too––just ten miles out. The Barney chap lived there with a Chinaman who did his housework. It was a twenty-acre place on the side of a hill, with a decent sort of a house and stables. There was a beautiful view of the lake and the Valley, and a fine fishing stream running right through the property. One could fish out of his window, lying in bed. A positive duck of a place!”
“Yes!” remarked Phil, “but a rancher can’t live on scenery and by fishing in bed. What kind of fruit trees did the place have?”
“Deuced good trees, Phil! At least, they seemed all-right. Of course, I’m not a bally expert on fruit trees.
“The Douthem chap said he could recommend it and I could have it for five thousand dollars cash. I gave him a cheque right off the reel. He gave me his receipt for the money, and the deal was closed there and then.”
DeRue Hannington stopped, as if the memory of it was somewhat painful.
“Not exactly closed, Phil! because it sort of opened up again, two days ago, just three weeks after I was done by Douthem, and he had cashed my cheque and jolly-well beat it, as they say out here.
“It was like this. I was sitting on the veranda, enjoying 108 a smoke and admiring my property and the view, when a collector Johnnie came up the road and asked me where Douthem was. I told him Douthem was gone, and I was now the proprietor.