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Updated: May 5, 2025
"I met a team near the bluff and lost it again almost immediately," he mumbled finally. Flett's face became intent. "Did the men who were with it see you? Which way were they going?" "No," said George sleepily. "Anyway, though I called I didn't get an answer. I think they were going west." "And there's no homestead for several leagues, except Langside's shack. They'll camp there sure."
"It sounds a little harsh; a good harvest might have set him straight," he said. "However, I suppose you have a reason for what you're doing." "That's so. Langside's the kind of man I've no use for; he takes no interest in his place. After he has put in half a crop, he goes off and spends his time doing a little railroad work and slouching round the saloons along the line."
"The sooner the trouble begins, the sooner it will be over," he said. "One has now and then to run the risk of getting hurt." Langside's farm was duly put up at auction, together with a valuable team which he hired out to his neighbors when he left the place, a few implements and a little rude furniture.
It was obvious to George that the position of Grant's associates was unassailable. If any friends of Langside's attempted to run prices up, they would only put the money into his creditor's pockets; if, as seemed more probable, they discouraged the bidding, the creditors would secure his possessions at a low figure and recoup themselves by selling later at the proper value.
On reaching home he told Edgar what he had heard, and the lad listened with a thoughtful expression. "One can't doubt that Grant knows what he's doing, but I'm not sure he's wise," he said. "Though Langside's a regular slacker, he has a good many friends, and as a rule nobody has much sympathy with exacting creditors.
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