"Oh, yes, mostly, unless away back. Folks are comin' in all the time,
but there's still lots of cheap land around."

"Cheap land, is there?" inquired Mrs. Gwynne with a certain eagerness in
her voice. "Indeed I should have thought that that beautiful land would
be very dear."

"Why, bless your heart, no. I know good land going for
six--seven--eight--ten dollars an acre. Ten dollars is high for good
farm lands; for cattle runs four dollars is good. No, there's lots of
good land lying around out of doors there. If these people around here
could get their heads up long enough from grubbing in the muck they
wouldn't stay here over night. They'd be hittin' the trail for the west,
you bet."

Mrs. Gwynne turned her honest eyes upon him. "Mr. Sleighter, I want to
ask your advice. I feel I can rely upon you ["Durn it all, she's gettin'
her work in all right," thought Mr. Sleighter to himself], and I am
getting quite anxious in the matter. You see, my husband is determined
to leave this place. He wishes to try something else. Indeed, he must
try something else. We must make a living, Mr. Sleighter." Mrs. Gwynne's
voice became hurried and anxious. "We were delighted last night by your
description of that wonderful country in the West, and the children
especially. I have been wondering if we might venture to try a small
farm in that country--quite a small farm. We have a little money
to invest. I thought I might be bold enough to ask you. I know your
judgment would be good and I felt somehow that we could trust you. I
hope I am not taking a liberty, but somehow I feel that you are not a
stranger."