"Horace Greeley said thirty years ago that the twin curses of Kansas were the land agent and the one-horse politician," Asher observed. "You are a grub, Aydelot. You have no ambition at all. Why, I've heard your name mentioned favorably several times for the legislature next winter," Jacobs insisted jokingly. "Which reminds me of that rhyme of Hosea Bigelow: If you're arter folks o' gumption You've a darned long row to hoe. "I'm not an office seeker," Asher replied. "Do I understand you won't sell lots off that ranch of yours to start a new town, and you won't run for the legislature when you're dead sure to be elected. May I ask how you propose to put in the fall after wheat harvest?" Jacobs asked, with a twinkle in his black eyes. "I propose to break ground for wheat again, and to experiment with alfalfa, the new hay product, and to take care of that Aydelot grove and build the Aydelot lake in the middle of it. And I'll be supplying the wheat market and banking checks for hay one of these years when your town starters will be hunting clerkships in your dry goods emporium, and your farmers, who imagine themselves each a Cincinnatus called to office, will be asking for appointment as deputy county assessor or courthouse custodian. Few things can so unfit a Kansas fellow for the real business of life as a term in the lower house of the Kansas legislature. If you are a merchant, I'm a farmer, and we will both be booming the state when these present-day boomers are gone back East to wife's folks, blaming Kansas for their hard luck. Now, mark my words. But to change the subject," Asher said smiling, "I thought we should have company for dinner. I saw Darley Champers and another fellow head in here before us. Darley is in clover now, planning to charter a town for every other section on Grass River. Did you know the man who was with him?" "That's one fly-by-night calling himself Thomas Smith. Innocent name and easy to lose if you don't want it. Not like Gimpke or Aydelot, now. He's from Wilmington, Delaware--maybe." "You seem to doubt his genuineness," Asher remarked. "I don't believe he will assay well," Jacobs agreed. "I've doubted him since the day he landed in Carey's Crossing fifteen years ago. Inside of an hour and a half I caught him and Champers in a consultation so secret they fastened newspapers across the window to keep from being seen." "Where were you meanwhile?" "Up on the roof, fixing the sign the wind had blown loose. When they saw me through the uncovered upper pane, they shaded that, too. I've little interest in a man like that." "Does he come here often?" Asher inquired.