Waco said; "and when you spoke of buyin' out that ranch I knew it."
"Not at all," Tom disclaimed, laughing shortly at his friend's effort to establish him among the striped and ringstreaked of his native land. "As I've told you, I'm nothing less than the son of a tanner, but he's got the change to buy up two or three lord-dukes, Waco, if he took the notion to do it. Lord-dukes!" Tom repeated, chuckling deeply.
"Or whalin' princes, or something," said Waco.
"Just so. He told me when I got through roving, found something I wanted and believed I could make a go of it, he'd stake me to the price. Simple enough, what?"
"Sure," said Waco, enlightened, but not convinced that Tom was not at least a duke with a college education.
"So, as I liked the Block E ranch, I wanted to buy it. And I got sat down on so hard I'm still a bit flat."
"Runnin' it on shares ain't so bad, Tom."
"Not half bad, old chap."
Waco smoked a while, meditatively. Tom was sitting in a Turkish posture, shins crossed before the fire, hat pushed back from his forehead, chin up, his eyes on the stars, as the eyes of Kansans, native and adopted, have been fixed always in their aims of achievement, great and small.
"You know the boomers are beginnin' to come to Drumwell already, Tom?"
"Boomers? You mean people who expect to take up land in the Strip when it's thrown open?"
"Four or five fam'lies of 'em tentin' along the crick.
