“Holderness, will you right the story about Hare?” inquired Naab.

“You mean about his being a spy?  Well, Naab, the truth is that was his job.  I advised against sending a man down here for that sort of work.  It won’t do.  These Mormons will steal each other’s cattle, and they’ve got to get rid of them; so they won’t have a man taking account of stock, brands, and all that.  If the Mormons would stand for it the rustlers wouldn’t.  I’ll take Hare out to the ranch and give him work, if he wants.  But he’d do best to leave Utah.”

“Thank you, no,” replied Hare, decidedly.

“He’s going with me,” said August Naab.

Holderness accepted this with an almost imperceptible nod, and he swept Hare with eyes that searched and probed for latent possibilities.  It was the keen intelligence of a man who knew what development meant on the desert; not in any sense an interest in the young man at present.  Then he turned his back.

Hare, feeling that Holderness wished to talk with Naab, walked to the counter, and began assorting his purchases, but he could not help hearing what was said.

“Lungs bad?” queried Holderness.

“One of them,” replied Naab.

“He’s all in.  Better send him out of the country.  He’s got the name of Dene’s spy and he’ll never get another on this desert.  Dene will kill him.  This isn’t good judgment, Naab, to take him with you.  Even your friends don’t like it, and it means trouble for you.”

“We’ve settled it,” said Naab, coldly.

“Well, remember, I’ve warned you.  I’ve tried to be friendly with you, Naab, but you won’t have it.  Anyway, I’ve wanted to see you lately to find out how we stand.”

“What do you mean?”

“How we stand on several things—­to begin with, there Mescal.”

“You asked me several times for Mescal, and I said no.”

“But I never said I’d marry her.  Now I want her, and I will marry her.”

“No,” rejoined Naab, adding brevity to his coldness.

“Why not?” demanded Holderness.  “Oh, well, I can’t take that as an insult.  I know there’s not enough money in Utah to get a girl away from a Mormon. . . .  About the offer for the water-rights—­how do we stand?  I’ll give you ten thousand dollars for the rights to Seeping Springs and Silver Cup.”

“Ten thousand!” ejaculated Naab.  “Holderness, I wouldn’t take a hundred thousand.  You might as well ask to buy my home, my stock, my range, twenty years of toil, for ten thousand dollars!”

“You refuse?  All right.  I think I’ve made you a fair proposition,” said Holderness, in a smooth, quick tone.  “The land is owned by the Government, and though your ranges are across the Arizona line they really figure as Utah land.  My company’s spending big money, and the Government won’t let you have a monopoly.  No one man can control the water-supply of a hundred miles of range.  Times are changing.  You want to see that.  You ought to protect yourself before it’s too late.”