“Aren’t we going to start and build up on the ruins?” asked Phil.
“We? Start all over? Good Lord, man,––not me, anyway! Not on your tin-tacks! This is the best excuse I ever had for a thing in my life. It’s a heller of a game, this ranching stuff, to one who doesn’t know a darned thing about it. Great Scot, man!––we were never made for it, anyway.”
“I can’t say that we have done very much so far,” replied Phil.
“Do you want to have another go?”
Phil shook his head.
“No,––can’t say I’m aching for it. If we could only sell the blessed place as it stands.”
A voice at Phil’s elbow broke into the conversation.
The speaker was old Ralph Mawson, the man who owned the adjoining ranch on the right.
Phil and Jim woke up as it were to find themselves surrounded by their neighbours.
“You boys want to sell out? I’ll make you a bid for her as she stands––spot cash.”