"I'm to be rancher Winston until to-morrow night, any way.

Don't worry about me.

I'll borrow those books of yours and improve my mind.

Possible starvation is the only thing that threatens me, and it's unfortunate you've left nothing fit to eat behind you." Winston swung himself into the saddle, a trifle awkwardly, for Courthorne rode with longer stirrup leathers than he was accustomed to, then he raised one hand, and the other man laughed a little as he watched him sink into the darkness of the shadowy prairie.

When the drumming of hoofs was lost in the moaning of the wind he strode towards the stable, and taking up the lantern surveyed Winston's horse thoughtfully.
"The thing cuts with both edges, and the farmer only sees one of them," he said.