glimpse I had of Menocal, I'll venture to say he has Red men among his
ancestors."

"Mexican or Indian or whatever he is, he can squeeze money out of
nothing, like a Jew," Stevenson complained. "Look how much he has made
out of this ranch; look at what he has made out of me! And it's just
that way with everything he holds. The Mexicans all around this
section sell him their stuff cheap and take what he pays, because they
don't know any better and because he's their leader. He has the big
store at Bartolo, which you've seen, and owns the bank there, and has
any number of farms up and down the Pinas River, and runs I don't know
how many bands of sheep; and besides, he elects the county officers,
and fixes the taxes to suit himself, and recommends the water
inspector for this district, and--and--well, what chance has an
ordinary man to get ahead here?"

Lee Bryant let a pause ensue. He rolled a cigarette and struck a light
and carefully got the tobacco to burning.

"You say you're going to let the ranch go back to Menocal," he stated,
abruptly. "You've made up your mind that you won't keep it, anyway.
All right. Now I've a proposition to make you."

Stevenson looked at him with curiosity.

"A proposition? What is it?" he asked.

"It's this: I've a farm of eighty acres in Nebraska that I'll trade
you for it. I could offer you less, but I won't; you have an equity
here of value, and I'm not the kind of man to beat you down to