LITMIR.BIZ

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impressed with Dakota’s coolness and his satanic cleverness with a six-shooter, and it seemed that it would be a simple matter to arrange with him for the removal of Doubler. Yes, it had seemed simple enough when he had planned it, and when Duncan had told him that Dakota was not on the “square.”

      But now, looking covertly at the man, he found that he was not quite certain in spite of what Duncan had said. He had mentally worked out his plan of approaching Dakota many times. But now the defect in the plan seemed to be that he had misjudged his man—that Duncan had misjudged him. Plainly he would make a mistake were he to approach Dakota with a bold request for the removing of the nester—he must clothe it. Thus, after a long silence, he started obliquely.

      “My friend,” he said, “it must be lonesome out here for you.”

      “Not so lonesome.”

      “It’s a big country, though—lots of land. There seems to be no end to it.”

      “That’s right, there’s plenty of it. I reckon the Lord wasn’t in a stingy mood when he made it.”

      “Yet there seem to be restrictions even here.”

      “Restrictions?”

      “Yes,” laughed Langford; “restrictions on a man’s desires.”

      Dakota looked at him with a saturnine smile. “Restrictions on a man’s desires,” he repeated slowly. Then he laughed mirthlessly. “Some people wouldn’t be satisfied if they owned the whole earth. They’d be wanting the sun, moon, and stars thrown in for good measure.”

      Langford laughed again. “That’s human nature, my friend,” he contended, determined not to be forced to digress from the main subject. “Have you got everything you want? Isn’t there anything besides what you already have that appeals to you? Have you no ambition?”

      “There are plenty of things I want. Maybe I’d be modest, though, if I had ambition. We all want a lot of things which we can’t get.”

      “Correct, my friend. Some of us want money, others desire happiness, still others are after something else. As you say, some of use are never satisfied—the ambitious ones.”

      “Then you are ambitious?”

      “You’ve struck it,” smiled Langford.

      Dakota caught his gaze, and there was a smile of derision on his lips. “What particular thing are you looking for?” he questioned.

      “Land.”

      “Mine?” Dakota’s lips curled a little. “Doubler’s, then,” he added as Langford shook his head with an emphatic, negative motion. “He’s the only man who’s got land near yours.”

      “That’s correct,” admitted Langford; “I want Doubler’s land.”

      There was a silence for a few minutes, while Langford watched Dakota furtively as the latter gave his entire attention to his saddle.

      “You’ve got all the rest of those things you spoke about, then—happiness, money, and such?” said Dakota presently, in a low voice.

      “Yes. I am pretty well off there.”

      “All you want is Doubler’s land?” He stopped working with the saddle and looked at Langford. “I reckon, if you’ve got all those things, that you ought to be satisfied. But of course you ain’t satisfied, or you wouldn’t want Doubler’s land. Did you offer to buy it?”

      “I asked him to name his own figure, and he wouldn’t sell—wouldn’t even consider selling, though I offered him what I considered a fair price.”

      “That’s odd, isn’t it? You’d naturally think that money could buy everything. But maybe Doubler has found happiness on his land. You couldn’t buy that from a man, you know. I suppose you care a lot about Doubler’s happiness—you wouldn’t want to take his land if you knew he was happy on it? Or don’t it make any difference to you?” There was faint sarcasm in his voice.

      “As it happens,” said Langford, reddening a little, “this isn’t a question of happiness—it is merely business. Doubler’s land adjoins mine. I want to extend my holdings. I can’t extend in Doubler’s direction because Doubler controls the water rights. Therefore it is my business to see that Doubler gets out.”

      “And sentiment has got no place in business. That right? It doesn’t make any difference to you that Doubler doesn’t want to sell; you want his land, and that settles it—so far as you are concerned. You don’t consider Doubler’s feelings. Well, I don’t know but that’s the way things are run—one man keeps what he can and another gets what he is able to get. What are you figuring to do about Doubler?”

      Langford glanced at Dakota with an oily, significant smile. “I am new to the country, my friend,” he said. “I don’t know anything about the usual custom employed to force a man to give up his land. Could you suggest anything?”

      Dakota deliberately took up a wax-end, rolled it, and squinted his eyes as he forced the end of the thread through the eye of the needle which he held in the other hand. So far as Langford could see he exhibited no emotion whatever; his face was inscrutable; he might not have heard.

      Yet Langford knew that he had heard; was certain that he grasped the full meaning of the question; probably felt some emotion over it, and was masking it by appearing to busy himself with the saddle. Langford’s respect for him grew and he wisely kept silent, knowing that in time Dakota would answer. But when the answer did come it was not the one that Langford expected. Dakota’s eyes met his in a level gaze.

      “Why don’t you shoot him yourself?” he said, drawling his words a little.

      “Not taking any chances?” Dakota’s voice was filled with a cold sarcasm as he continued, after an interval during which Langford kept a discreetly still tongue. “Your business principles don’t take you quite that far, eh? And so you’ve come over to get me to shoot him? Why didn’t you say so in the beginning—it would have saved all this time.” He laughed coldly.

      “What makes you think that you could hire me to put Doubler out of business?”

      “I saw you shoot Blanca,” said Langford. “And I sounded Duncan.” It did not disturb him to discover that Dakota had all along been aware of the object of his visit. It rather pleased him, in fact, to be given proof of the man’s discernment—it showed that he was deep and clever.

      “You saw me shoot Blanca,” said Dakota with a strange smile, “and Duncan told you I was the man to put Doubler away. Those are my recommendations.” His voice was slightly ironical, almost concealing a slight harshness. “Did Duncan mention that he was a friend of mine?” he asked. “No?” His smile grew mocking. “Just merely mentioned that I was uncommonly clever in the art of getting people—undesirable people—out of the way. Don’t get the idea, though, because Duncan told you, that I make a business of shooting folks. I put Blanca out of the way because it was a question of him or me—I shot him to save my own hide. Shooting Doubler would be quite another proposition. Still——” He looked at Langford, his eyes narrowing and smoldering with a mysterious fire.

      It seemed that he was inviting Langford to make a proposal, and the latter smiled evilly. “Still,” he said, repeating Dakota’s word with a significant inflection, “you don’t refuse to listen to me. It would be worth a thousand dollars to me to have Doubler out of the way,” he added.

      It was out now, and Langford sat silent while Dakota gazed into the distance that reached toward the nester’s cabin. Langford watched Dakota closely, but there was an absolute lack of expression in the latter’s face.

      “How are you offering to pay the thousand?” questioned Dakota. “And when?”

      “In cash, when Doubler isn’t here any more.”

      Dakota looked up at him, his face a mask of immobility. “That sounds all right,” he said, with slow emphasis.

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