it. Maybe that's what happened to you when Jim Lefingwell spoke to you
about his agreement with me. Anyway, I feel that charitable enough
toward you to advance that explanation. You can take that for what it
seems worth to you. And I won't be bothered any, no matter which way you
take it."

Lawler turned toward the door. On the threshold he paused, for Warden's
voice reached him.

"You'd better sell at twenty-five, Mr. Lawler."

Warden's voice was low and smooth; he seemed to have decided to accept
the "charity" offered him by Lawler. But there was mockery in his voice,
and his eyes were alight with cunning. In the atmosphere about him was
complacency which suggested that Warden knew exactly what he was doing;
that he had knowledge unsuspected by Lawler, and that he had no doubt
that, ultimately, Lawler would accept his offer.

"Not a steer at twenty-five," returned Lawler.

"That price means immediate shipment," pursued Warden. "The railroads
are having some trouble with their rolling stock--it is hard to get
cars. Some shippers are not getting them at all. And the shortage will
grow."

"Perhaps it will. I don't blame you for buying as low as you can. That's
business, Warden. I heard through Lew Brainard, of the Two Diamond, that
owners in the South Basin, over at Shotwell, were offered forty just
before the round-up. I was kicking myself for making that agreement with
Lefingwell at thirty. But I intended to keep my word with him. But I