“Why can’t we? Tell me? Haven’t I got cow hands working for me? Haven’t I got fifty thousand cows in the T.L.? You say sixty-five thousand. Isn’t the world full of grass and water north of here? Didn’t you hear what he told you—hasn’t my father told you—that there’s a whole other world waiting up north, not a man nor a cow nor a horse in it, hardly; just waiting? Jim, the time to make money is when times are bad. If we haven’t got cash we’ve got sand. This may be a time of despair or a time of opportunity. It’s always been that way, all over the world. When some despair others win—if they’ve sand to do it.” “You talk like a book I read oncet, ma’am. It was full of maximuns.” Taisie stamped her foot. “We’ll put up a herd and trail it! I’ll go along! We’ll be utterly broke—or else we’ll win!” “You can’t go along, Miss Taisie. No woman could.” “But I will!” “You make things right hard for yore segundo, Miss Taisie.” “Jim! Jim! Don’t talk that way! Don’t you think I know? Isn’t all this hard for me too? But if we have luck I’ll make it easier for you-all.” “You’re just a girl, Miss Taisie. Let’s get married first, huh? I don’t mean me. How about you and Del?” The girl rose, a native imperiousness in her gesture. “Leave those things to me!” “Oh, all right, all right,” sighed Nabours. “But maybe you’ll leave some things to me?” “What?” The old range man rose and spread his hands. “Miss Taisie,” said he, “fire me! I’m the damnedest liar in Texas!” “What do you mean, Jim?” “I am. I been lying to you. You ain’t got no cows left, hardly. Our range has been combed and skinned; for two years it’s been going on—I don’t know how long before. You ain’t got no sixty-five nor fifty thousand cows. You’re lucky if you can put up a herd of four thousand. We’ve all lied to you. We couldn’t tell you the truth. Ma’am, this outfit would all lay down and die for you. They’d do almost anything but tell you the truth. We couldn’t do that. We didn’t have the nerve.” The girl sank back, her face pale. “Why, Jim! I didn’t really know!” “No, ma’am. Some gang’s at work in here, and north and west of here—far north as Palo Pinto. We’ve been away, enduring the war and after the war. We’re all broke, us Texans. But in Austin is plenty people ain’t broke none a-tall. We don’t know nothing, can’t prove nothing. All I say is, in Austin is plenty people ain’t broke a-tall.” “You mean the Yankee treasurer?” “I don’t say out loud what I do mean. All I know is, our range is skinned; and I know we’re up against a strong game. That’s why, ma’am, looking for the best of Del Sol and what yore paw meant for her, and looking for yore own good interests, too, I been advising you to get married. That’d simple up a lot of things.