“Yes, we’re figgerin’ on buyin’ Simpson’s place; it’s well up toward the head of the ditch, and if any water comes we’re reckonin’ that will give us a whack at it. Simpson’s made me an offer to sell. I’m jist waitin’ to see what’s goin’ to turn up here in the ditch line.” “I tell him he’ll wait round till it’s too late,” said Pearl. “Fogg will buy that land before he knows it; he’s buying up farms everywhere, for himself and Davison.” She turned to Justin with a smile. “I’ve been wondering if you wouldn’t get married and settle down to farming, too; you never liked ranching.” Pearl was as much of a match-maker as any dowager of her favorite novels. “Pearl won’t never be satisfied until that weddin’ comes off,” said Harkness. “These women air bound to have a weddin’ happenin’ about one’t in so often, er they ain’t happy; if it can’t be their own weddin’, another woman’s will do. The weddin’s of a neighborhood air what keeps the old maids alive, I reckon; they live ferever, ye know, drawin’ happiness out of other women’s marriages.” “I’m not an old maid!” Pearl asserted with spirit. “No; I happened along!” Before Mr. and Mrs. Harkness departed that evening, Dicky Carroll, galloping by, stopped for a few moments. “I’ve got a job over at Borden’s,” he announced to Harkness. “He’ll be a better man to git along with than Davison, anyway; so I’m kinder glad to go. And if I stay round hyer longer I’ll be tempted to shoot Ben full of handsome little holes; he’s been meaner than a polecat to me ever sense that election.” Then he shook hands with Justin and Clayton, who had come out into the yard. The moonlight revealed him in full cowboy attire, with his rope coiled at the saddle bow. “They’re sayin’, Justin, that you helped to bu’st the cattle bizness round hyer. I ain’t believin’ it; but if you did, what’s the dif? There’ll be plenty of ranches fer as long a time as I’m able to straddle a pony and sling a rope, ranches back where the farmers can’t go. When I can’t ride a horse any longer I’ll quit cow-punchin’ and go to playin’ gentleman like Ben. From the fine clothes he wears I judge there’s money in it. Well, so long; luck to all of you!” Fogg did not vary from his custom, when he visited Paradise Valley. He came over to Clayton’s, and sat in the little study, in the chair he loved, which, though big, was now almost too small for him. He put his fat hands on the arms of the chair, stretched out his fat legs, and with his watch chain shining like a golden snake across his big stomach, talked as amiably and laughed as loudly as ever.