Why did you come here dressed as we usually are on the prairie ?" Courthorne glanced down at the deerskin jacket and smiled as he straightened himself into a caricature of Winston's mounted attitude.
It was done cleverly.
"When I ride in this fashion we are really not very unlike, you see, and I let one or two men I met get a good look at me," he said.

"I meant it as a hint that it would be wise of you to come to terms with me." "I have done so already.

You made the bargain." "Well," said Courthorne, smiling, "a contract may be modified at any time when both parties are willing." "One is not," said Winston dryly.

"You heard my terms, and nothing that you can urge will move me a hairsbreadth from them." Courthorne looked at him steadily, and some men would have found his glance disconcerting, for now and then all the wickedness that was in him showed in his half-closed eyes.

Still, he saw that the farmer was unyielding.
"Then we will let it go; in the meanwhile," he said, "take me across the bridge." They were half-way along it when he pulled the horse up, and once more looked down on Winston.
"Your hand is a tolerably good one so long as you are willing to sacrifice yourself, but it has its weak points, and there is one thing I could not tolerate," he said.
"What is that ?" Courthorne laughed wickedly.