"Father," he said at last, "you say this land part of it is mine. I'm willing to take less profits. Consider something else beside the Peyton ranch."
Boyd opened his eyes wide.
"What's the idea?" he demanded.
"I like the Colonel. I don't want to see him in trouble."
"What's that got to do with it? He's in trouble already."
"Yes, I know. But he could go on as he is, if you did not act. You know that, father. Let's leave the old man in peace. He's lived on that place for a long time."
"Ken, I do wish you would grow up and be a man," said Boyd impatiently, but not unkindly. "You must get over this sentimentalizing and look at plain facts."
Kenneth threw himself heart and soul into his plea. It must be confessed that he was not too coherent: his feelings were too deeply involved. Boyd listened at first with incredulity, then with impatience, ending in an attitude of combined amusement and toleration. His thought could have been read by a disinterested bystander. Kenneth was younger than he had imagined. Also he was disappointed. Where he had anticipated sympathy and understanding, he encountered opposite. Well, he had generally played a lone hand.
"You don't quite know what you are talking about, Ken," he said. "When you are older you will see things in a more practical way; and you will thank me for not doing as you wish now. I know you mean it, but it's moonshine; it's not practical."
Kenneth experienced at once a sinking of dismay and a flush of anger. No one likes to be relegated cavalierly to the infant class.
"Then you're going right ahead in this—this scheme?" he stammered.
"Why, of course, my boy."
"But if I understand it, you are doing this mostly for me. I don't want it. I'll gladly give up any interest I may have."
"I wouldn't let you," said Boyd, decidedly.
"But"
"See here, Ken, I don't want to treat you as anything but as a grown-up man; but you must act like one. Good Lord! How
