Langford's eyes narrowed; he smiled craftily. "That," he said smoothly, "would put me in your power. I have never been accused of being a fool by any of the men with whom I have done business. Don't you think that at my age it is a little late to start?" "I reckon we don't make any deal," laughed Dakota shortly. "We'll arrange it this way," suggested Langford. "Doubler is not the only man I want to get rid of. I want your land, too. But"--he added as he saw Dakota's lips harden--"I don't purpose to proceed against you in the manner I am dealing with Doubler. I flatter myself that I know men quite well. I'd like to buy your land. What would be a fair price for it?" "Five thousand." "We'll put it this way, then," said Langford, briskly and silkily. "I will give you an agreement worded in this manner: 'One month after date I promise to pay to Dakota the sum of six thousand dollars, in consideration of his rights and interest in the Star brand, provided that within one month from date he persuades Ben Doubler to leave Union county.'" He looked at Dakota with a significant smile. "You see," he said, "that I am not particularly desirous of being instrumental in causing Doubler's death--you have misjudged me." Dakota's eyes met his with a glance of perfect knowledge. His smile possessed a subtly mocking quality--which was slightly disconcerting to Langford. "I reckon you'll be an angel--give you time," he said. "I am accepting that proposition, though," he added. "I've been wanting to leave here--I've got tired of it. And"--he continued with a mysterious smile--"if things turn out as I expect, you'll be glad to have me go." He rose from the bench. "Let's write that agreement," he suggested. They entered the cabin, and a few minutes later Dakota sat again on the box in the lee of the cabin wall, mending his saddle, the signed agreement in his pocket. Smiling, Langford rode the river trail, satisfied with the result of his visit. Turning once--as he reached the rise upon which Sheila had halted that morning after leaving Dakota's cabin, Langford looked back. Dakota was still busy with his saddle. Langford urged his pony down the slope of the rise and vanished from view. Then Dakota ceased working on the saddle, drew out the signed agreement and read it through many times. "That man," he said finally, looking toward the crest of the slope where Langford had disappeared, "thinks he has convinced me that I ought to kill my best friend. He hasn't changed a bit--not a damned bit!" CHAPTER X DUNCAN ADDS TWO AND TWO Had Langford known that there had been a witness to his visit to Dakota he might not have ridden away from the latter's cabin so entirely satisfied with the result of his interview.