They entered the shack, Lancaster leading. Dallas and Marylyn glanced up in surprise from the fireplace, and arose hastily. "M' gals," said the section-boss, motioning their visitor to a bench. Braden took it, with more swinging bows, and a sweep of his floppy headgear. "Glad t' meet you," he smiled, "Miss-a-a-a-Miss----" "Lancaster's they name," prompted the section-boss, all good nature. "--Lancaster. Glad t' meet you both." Dallas nodded, and drew her sister away to the wagon-seat in the corner. "Jes' fr'm th' Falls, Ah think y' said," began their father, hunting his tobacco plug along the mantel. "Yep." "Um. Any--any news fr'm down thet way 'bout this part o' th' country?" Braden fell to admiring his ring. "No, sir, no. Didn't hear nothin' particular." The section-boss fidgeted. "S'pose y' know they's some talk 'bout a railroad comin' this way," he said carelessly. "Don't go much on that talk. Ten years, twenty years--maybe. Too early yet." Lancaster's face lengthened. He blinked in dismay. "My idea," went on Braden, "is cows. Goin' t' be a lot of money in 'em, sure as you're alive. Hear Clark's made a good thing of his'n." "Cows!" said Lancaster, in disgust. "Cows don' help a country; don' raise th' price o' lan'." "Cows or no cows, your place here's worth a nice little sum," protested the other, condescendingly; "hunderd, anyway." Lancaster stared. "Hunderd!" he cried. "You got th' grass staggers. _Five_ hunderd." Braden pursed his lips, his thumbs in his armholes again. "Three hunderd and fifty, say," he compromised. "_I'd_ be willin' t' give you _that_." A moment since, the section-boss had been downcast. Now, he guffawed. "_Would y'?_" he asked; "_would y'?_" There was a sage gleam in his eye. "I would." Lancaster sucked his teeth importantly. "Y' couldn' hev it a cent short o' seven hunderd an' fifty," he declared. "You'll never get it, sir, _never_. Five hunderd's a spankin' figger." "Bah!" "Telling you what's what. There's thousands of acres around here just as good as your'n any day in the week. But you got this end of the ford. That makes a little difference." "Makes 'bout fifteen hunderd dollars' diff'rence." It was Braden's turn to laugh. "My friend, you'll hist to two thousand pretty soon," he warned; and arose. "Better take five hunderd and fifty when it's offered." He flung out his hands as if he were feeding hens. Lancaster got up with him, righteously angry. "Say, _you_ ain't no South'ner," he cried. "Jes' a slick Yank. Ah c'n see through you like winda-pane!" Braden laughed again, tapping the shoulder of the section-boss. "You ain't wise," he confided. "Farmin' out here with cows around means fences. But hang on if you want to. It's your land." He ended this with a jovial slap, and made for the door. From it, he could see the girls. He gave them a magnificent bow. "Mornin', mornin'," he said, and walked out.