"I don't hold it at anything. It will be sold to-morrow by public sale under a mortgage."

The two men exchanged glances and eyed Angus with curiosity.

"Who holds the mortgage?" the younger man asked.

"Isaac J. Braden."

"Braden, hey! Isn't that the fellow--" He spoke swiftly in an undertone to his companion, who nodded. "We've heard of him. Local big bug, isn't he? What's the amount against the property?" He whistled when Angus told him. "Why didn't you get a loan somewhere and pay him off?"

"Because I couldn't. n.o.body would lend. The loan companies'

appraisers--well, they shied off."

"Braden fixed them, did he?" the other deduced. "Knocked the loan, hey?

Knocked you as a borrower! Shoved you to the wall. Thinks he'll bid the place in. Anybody else want it? No--or you'd have made some deal."

"That's about the size of it," Angus admitted, surprised at the swift accuracy of these deductions.

"Will it leave you stranded?"

"Nearly. Not quite."

"Folks depending on you?"

"Yes."

"Why don't you tell me to mind my own darn business?"

"I came near it," Angus admitted; "but you look as if you know enough to do that without being told."

The stout man chuckled. "I think I do, myself. If I had known of this place before I'd have made you some sort of an offer for it. As it is, I'll go to that sale to-morrow. Good day. Drive on, Floyd."

Angus watched them drive away and turned back to the house. It seemed that Braden might have opposition, and apart from financial reasons he was glad of it. The strangers did not look like ranchers. Speculators, likely. Anyway, it had not taken the stout fellow long to size Braden up. But if he could have overheard the conversation between the two strangers as they drove away he would have been more surprised at the accuracy of their mental workings.

"Things like that," the man called Floyd observed jerking his head backward, "always get my goat. I'll bet that young fellow's got the raw end of some dirty deal. He's taking a bitter dose of medicine. You can see it in his face."

"And I can make a pretty fair guess what it is," the other responded.

"This fellow Braden has been trying to get information about our construction plans. He hinted that he had some sort of a townsite proposition to make to us, and if that place back there is it I give him credit for a good eye. He doesn't seem to have been very particular about how he went to work to get hold of it himself."

"What are you going to do about it, Mac?"

"What I should do," the other replied, frowning thoughtfully, "is to make a d.i.c.ker with Braden to take over the land at a reasonable profit, after he had bid it in for the amount of his d.i.n.ky mortgage. That's my plain duty to my employers, the Northern Airline, Mountain Section, for which they pay me a salary, large it is true, but small in comparison with my talents."

Floyd grinned. "Yes, I know you _should_ do that. But what _are_ you going to do?"

"Well," the man called Mac admitted, "I do hate to see a shark get away with anything but the hook. Besides, it looks to me as if Braden, if he got hold of the property would try to double-cross us. I'll bet he'd hold us up for some fancy price. So it's my duty to see he doesn't get a chance. The property is just about what we want. There's room for a good, little town. With that creek, a natural gravity water system could be put in. No trouble about drainage. You can get power, too. A subsidiary company formed to handle that end would pay well in a few years when the place got going. Ah, it's a bird of a proposition--too good to take any chances on."

"That's your end," Floyd nodded. "We go ahead and find the grades and put 'em in, and you fat office guys come along and clean up. Well, Healey's notes are all right so far. Easy construction through here.

I'll send young Davis in right away and let him run a trial line east, for Broderick to tie into."

"Don't be in a hurry," the other responded. "Trouble with you roughneck engineers, you think all there is to a railroad is building it. You wait till I pick up what I want. I could fix it with Braden, but he'd get the profit, and that young fellow back there would go broke, as he said. I think I'll try to fix it so _he_ gets the profit. I'll just bid the place in over Braden, and the young fellow will get any surplus over the mortgage claim. It will be just as cheap for us."

"And the trouble with you," said the chief of Northern Airline construction to its chief right-of-way and natural resources man, "is that you're mushy about men in hard luck. I know some corporations you wouldn't last with as long as a pint of red-eye in a Swede rock gang."

"You're such a hard-hearted guy yourself!" sneered Mac, his round face reddening perceptibly. "No bowels of compa.s.sion. Practical man! Dam'

hypocrite! Yah! you make me sick!"

Mr. Floyd also reddened perceptibly. "Oh, well, I've been in hard luck myself," he said.

"So've I," his friend admitted. "I know what the gaff feels like.

Well--stir up those horses. We've got a long way to go."

CHAPTER x.x.xI

THE AUCTION

The sale was to take place at noon in the sheriff's office. After breakfast Angus went down to the corrals. Faith followed him.

"I'd like to go with you to the sale."

"Why?" he asked.

"I'd just like to be with you."

He stared at her for a moment. In his life this solicitude, almost maternal, was a new thing.

"Why, old girl, I believe you think I can't stand the gaff. But if you like, we'll take our medicine together."

Toward noon they entered the sheriff's office. Braden was already there with his lawyer, Parks, talking with the sheriff. Presently entered the two strangers with whom Angus had talked the day before. The stout man smiled and nodded, with a quick appraising glance at Faith. Then came Judge Riley, and with him, to Angus' surprise, was Chetwood.

"'Under and by virtue of the power of sale contained in a certain mortgage bearing date--and made between--'"

The sheriff's voice droned on. Angus paid scanty attention. Now that he was there "to stand the gaff" his feelings were almost impersonal.

"What am I offered for this property?" the sheriff having stated the conditions of sale was getting down to business.

"Ten thousand dollars." This from Mr. Braden. The amount was slightly more than his mortgage claim.

"Ten thousand dollars I am offered. Ten thousand. Are there any other offers? If not--" The sheriff paused, sweeping the room with his eye.

Braden, looking at Angus, permitted himself a grin. "If not, then--"

"Twelve thousand." It was the stout man, Mac. Having uttered the two words he resumed a conversation with his friend.

"Twelve thousand?" the sheriff repeated. "Was that right sir? You bid twelve thousand, Mr.--er--"

"McGinity," the stout man supplied.