The land and its produce, whether animal or vegetable, was
their beginning and end. They discussed every prospect from the
overwhelming competition of the Argentine, to the rapid transformation
of grazing pastures into golden wheat fields. Their interest seemed
endless, and it seemed only to require the non-appearance of Peters for
their talk to continue until sleep overtook them.
But the break came in the flow of their "shop" at the mention of the
name of Peters. Jeff was curious to hear about him.
"Who is this Peters, anyway?" he demanded. "He's not down in the stock
register, and nobody seems to have found him except you."
Dug's reply came with a great laugh. His very bright gray eyes were
full of a good humor beneath his pronounced black brows.
"Peters? Why, I guess Peters 'ud make a funeral procession laff.
You've never seen him? You don't know him? No. Sure you wouldn't.
Nor you wouldn't find him registered. Y'see, they don't register mixed
farm stock. Anyways, he got me laffin' all the time.
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