"Well," he said, "I certainly want the bull, but you seem to understand. Leave it at that; I'm offering to treat you pretty liberally."
"So as to prevent my assisting Flett in any way or taking a part in
Hardie's campaign?"
"I wouldn't consider it the square thing for you to do," Beamish returned quietly.
George thought of the man who was waiting at the homestead for the team. It was obvious that an attempt was being made to buy him, and he strongly resented it.
"Then I can only tell you that I won't make this deal. That's the end of the matter."
Beamish nodded and started his horse, but he looked back as he rode off.
"Well," he called, in a meaning tone, "you may be sorry."
George rode on to Grant's homestead, and finding him at work in the fallow, told him what had passed.
"I fail to see why they're so eager to get hold of me," he concluded.
Grant, sitting in the saddle of the big plow, thoughtfully filled his pipe.