Winston stood up and set his back to the door.  “You heard my terms, but if you mention that lady again in connection with me, it would suit me equally well to make good all I owe you very differently.”

Courthorne did not appear in any way disconcerted, but, before he could answer, a man outside opened the door.

“Here’s Sergeant Stimson and one of his troopers wanting you,” he said.

Winston looked at Courthorne, but the latter smiled.  “The visit has nothing to do with me.  It is probably accidental, but I fancy Stimson knows me, and it wouldn’t be advisable for him to see us both together.  Now, I wonder whether you could make it fifteen hundred dollars.”

“No,” said Winston.  “Stay if it pleases you.”

Courthorne shook his head.  “I don’t know that it would.  You don’t do it badly, Winston.”

He went out by another door, almost as the grizzled sergeant came in and stood still, looking at the master of the homestead.

“I haven’t seen you since I came here, Mr. Courthorne, and now you remind me of another man I once had dealings with,” he said.

Winston laughed a little.  “I scarcely fancy that is very civil, Sergeant.”

“Well,” said the prairie-rider, “there is a difference, when I look at you more closely.  Let me see, I met you once or twice back there in Alberta?”

He appeared to be reflecting, but Winston was on his guard.  “More frequently, I fancy, but you had nothing definite against me, and the times have changed.  I would like to point that out to you civilly.  Your chiefs are also on good terms with us at Silverdale, you see.”

The sergeant laughed.  “Well, sir, I meant no offense, and called round to requisition a horse.  One of the Whitesod boys has been deciding a quarrel with a neighbor with an ax, and while I fancy they want me at once, my beast got his foot in a badger-hole.”

“Tell Tom in the stables to let you have your choice,” said Winston.  “If you like them, there’s no reason you shouldn’t take some of these cigars along.”

The sergeant went out, and when the beat of hoofs sank into the silence of the prairie, Winston called Courthorne in.  “I have offered you no refreshment, but the best in the house is at your service,” he said.

Courthorne looked at him curiously, and for the first time Winston noticed that the life he had led was telling upon his companion.

“As your guest?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Winston.  “I am tenant here, and, that I may owe you nothing, purpose paying you a second thousand dollars when the crop is in, as well as bank-rate interest on the value of the stock and machines and the money I have used, as shown in the documents handed me by Colonel Barrington.  With wheat at its present price nobody would give you more for the land.  In return, I demand the unconditional use of the farm until within three months from harvest.  I have the elevator warrants for whatever wheat I raise, which will belong to me.  If you do not agree, or remain here after sunrise to-morrow, I shall ride over to the outpost and make a declaration.”