The Flying Us Last Stand | Page 6

drawl that matched well the quirk of his lips when he talked. He was
headed for home--which was the Flying U--sober and sunny and with
enough money to see him through. He told Florence Hallman his name,
and said that he lived "up the road a ways" without being too definite.
Florence Hallman lived in Minneapolis, she said; though she traveled
most of the time, in the interests of her firm.
Yes, she liked the real estate business. One had a chance to see the
world, and keep in touch with people and things. She liked the West
especially well. Since her firm had taken up the homeseekers' line she
spent most of her time in the West.
They had supper--she called it dinner, Andy observed-- together, and

Andy Green paid the check, which was not so small. It was after that,
when they became more confidential, that Florence Hallman, with the
egotism of the successful person who believes herself or himself to be
of keen interest to the listener spoke in greater detail of her present
mission.
Her firm's policy was, she said, to locate a large tract of government
land somewhere, and then organize a homeseekers' colony, and settle
the land-hungry upon the tract--at so much per hunger. She thought it a
great scheme for both sides of the transaction. The men who wanted
claims got them. The firm got the fee for showing them the land--and
certain other perquisites at which she merely hinted.
She thought that Andy himself would be a success at the business. She
was quick to form her opinions of people whom she met, and she knew
that Andy was just the man for such work. Andy, listening with his
candid, gray eyes straying often to her face and dwelling there,
modestly failed to agree with her. He did not know the first thing about
the real estate business, he confessed, nor very much about ranching.
Oh, yes--he lived in this country, and he knew THAT pretty well, but--
"The point is right here," said Florence Grace Hallman, laying her pink
fingertips upon his arm and glancing behind her to make sure that they
were practically alone--their immediate neighbors being still in the
diner. "I'm speaking merely upon impulse--which isn't a wise thing to
do, ordinarily. But--well, your eyes vouch for you, Mr. Green, and we
women are bound to act impulsively sometimes--or we wouldn't be
women, would we?" She laughed--rather, she gave a little, infectious
giggle, and took away her fingers, to the regret of Andy who liked the
feel of them on his forearm.
"The point is here. I've recognized the fact, all along, that we need a
man stationed right here, living in the country, who will meet
prospective homesteaders and talk farming; keep up their enthusiasm;
whip the doubters into line; talk climate and soil and the future of the
country; look the part, you understand."
"So I look like a rube, do I?" Andy's lips quirked a half smile at her.

"No, of course you don't!" She laid her fingers on his sleeve again,
which was what Andy wanted--what he had intended to bait her into
doing; thereby proving that, in some respects at least, he amply
justified Hiss Hallman in her snap judgment of him.
"Of course you don't look like a rube! I don't want you to. But you do
look Western--because you are Western to the bone Besides, you look
perfectly dependable. Nobody could look into your eyes and even think
of doubting the truth of any statement you made to them." Andy
snickered mentally at that though his eyes never lost their clear candor.
"And," she concluded, "being a bona fide resident of the country, your
word would carry more weight than mine if I were to talk myself black
in the face!"
"That's where you're dead wrong," Andy hastened to correct her.
"Well, you must let me have my own opinion, Mr. Green. You would
be convincing enough, at any rate. You see, there is a certain per cent
of--let us call it waste effort--in this colonization business. We have to
reckon on a certain number of nibblers who won't bite--" Andy's honest,
gray eyes widened a hair's breadth at the frankness of her language--"
when they get out here. They swallow the folders we send out, but
when they get out here and see the country, they can't see it as a rich
farming district, and they won't invest. They go back home and knock,
if they do anything.
"My idea is to stop that waste; to land every homeseeker that boards
our excursion trains. And I believe the way to do that is to have the
right kind of a man out here, steer the doubtfuls against him--and let his
personality and his