more."
"Thanks, Bray. I consider that a compliment to me. Come on, Curly."
Jim walked the cowboy down the block and up a side street until they got out of the centre of the town. Neither he nor Curly broke silence during his walk. Finally Jim halted on a corner.
"Curly, will you go back to the ranch? I'd go with you, but I've errands to do."
"Boss, are you orderin' me?" queried the cowboy.
"No, I'm asking you."
"Then I ain't a-goin'."
"Very well, then. I'll have to make it an order. Will you go now?"
"I reckon. The Diamond ain't disobeyin' orders. But what'd you want to go do this heah trick for?"
"Trick? I've only kept you out of jail."
"Shore. An' the outfit will be sore at me."
"Curly, I don't understand you," protested Jim.
"They ain't a-goin' to stand for me bein' friends with a tenderfoot boss."
Jim began to get a glimmering. The tall cowboy seemed pained over this little service. He looked most disapprovingly at Jim. "Curly, you needn't let that embarrass you."
Apparently Curly could not help being embarrassed. He wheeled and strode away. Half across the street he turned. "Boss, I fort. I'm in an orful fix," he said, and strode back. "My gurl's in town. I haven't laid eyes on her for two months. Shore it won't be safe to let it go longer."
"Curly, are you asking me to explain to your girl or to allow you to come back to town?" queried Jim.
"Reckon I was just tellin' you."
"Well, I dare say you are in a fix. What do you want of me?" rejoined Jim, who divined that the cowboy did not like to ask a favour.
"It'd never do for you to see Nancy. I lost one gurl that way."
"Curly, I'll help you out. Promise you'll not take another drink today.
Then walk out to the ranch and walk back tonight. That'll sober you. And you can see your girl."
Curly swore. He bent a strange blue gaze upon Jim.
"I reckon there ain't no help for it," he muttered, as if declaring an inevitable fact to himself. Then he strode away.
Jim scarcely knew how to take this last declaration and he went back uptown, pondering over it. These cowboys were certainly going to be problems. They were like children. But he had had a most pleasing reaction from this first encounter with one of the Diamond outfit.
Jim returned to his errands, which took him up and down the main throughfare of Flagerstown, and therefore past the saloons and pool-halls. It struck him that the town was growing rather lively as evening approached. All the hitching-rails were crowded with saddle-horses, many of which took Jim's appreciative eye.
Jim was entering the hotel, where he expected to meet his uncle and ride home with him, when he was detained by another member of the Diamond, who barred his way obviously if not rudely. Two other cowboys drew back.
"Excuse me, Mister Traft. I'm Hack Jocelyn, an' I'm wantin a word with you."
He was cool, insolent, and something else Jim could not name. "Aren't you one of my cowboys?" asked Jim.
"I've been ridin' with the Diamond, if thet's what you mean. But I ain't shore I'm stayin' with the outfit."
Jim had been told by no less an authority than Ring Locke that horses and men could not separate the Diamond outfit. "You're not, eh? Well, you want to be pretty sure, or you won't be riding for it. What do you want?"
Jocelyn appeared to be gauging Jim.
"I was in Babbitt's an' they told me they'd sent out a wagonload of barbed wire to the ranch. Fer the Diamond outfit! An' I calls him a liar."
"Then you'll have to apologize. It was for the Diamond. And there's a carload more ordered."
"Hell you say!" ejaculated Jocelyn, in amaze and gathering anger. "An' what's it fer?"
"None of your business, Jocelyn," retorted Jim. "If you'd asked me civilly I'd have told you."
"But barbed wire is most used fer fences!" exclaimed the cowboy. His two comrades edged closer until they were beside him, watchful, hiding their feelings, if they had any. "An' nobody in Gawd's world would reckon the Diamond'd have anything to do with
"Thanks, Bray. I consider that a compliment to me. Come on, Curly."
Jim walked the cowboy down the block and up a side street until they got out of the centre of the town. Neither he nor Curly broke silence during his walk. Finally Jim halted on a corner.
"Curly, will you go back to the ranch? I'd go with you, but I've errands to do."
"Boss, are you orderin' me?" queried the cowboy.
"No, I'm asking you."
"Then I ain't a-goin'."
"Very well, then. I'll have to make it an order. Will you go now?"
"I reckon. The Diamond ain't disobeyin' orders. But what'd you want to go do this heah trick for?"
"Trick? I've only kept you out of jail."
"Shore. An' the outfit will be sore at me."
"Curly, I don't understand you," protested Jim.
"They ain't a-goin' to stand for me bein' friends with a tenderfoot boss."
Jim began to get a glimmering. The tall cowboy seemed pained over this little service. He looked most disapprovingly at Jim. "Curly, you needn't let that embarrass you."
Apparently Curly could not help being embarrassed. He wheeled and strode away. Half across the street he turned. "Boss, I fort. I'm in an orful fix," he said, and strode back. "My gurl's in town. I haven't laid eyes on her for two months. Shore it won't be safe to let it go longer."
"Curly, are you asking me to explain to your girl or to allow you to come back to town?" queried Jim.
"Reckon I was just tellin' you."
"Well, I dare say you are in a fix. What do you want of me?" rejoined Jim, who divined that the cowboy did not like to ask a favour.
"It'd never do for you to see Nancy. I lost one gurl that way."
"Curly, I'll help you out. Promise you'll not take another drink today.
Then walk out to the ranch and walk back tonight. That'll sober you. And you can see your girl."
Curly swore. He bent a strange blue gaze upon Jim.
"I reckon there ain't no help for it," he muttered, as if declaring an inevitable fact to himself. Then he strode away.
Jim scarcely knew how to take this last declaration and he went back uptown, pondering over it. These cowboys were certainly going to be problems. They were like children. But he had had a most pleasing reaction from this first encounter with one of the Diamond outfit.
Jim returned to his errands, which took him up and down the main throughfare of Flagerstown, and therefore past the saloons and pool-halls. It struck him that the town was growing rather lively as evening approached. All the hitching-rails were crowded with saddle-horses, many of which took Jim's appreciative eye.
Jim was entering the hotel, where he expected to meet his uncle and ride home with him, when he was detained by another member of the Diamond, who barred his way obviously if not rudely. Two other cowboys drew back.
"Excuse me, Mister Traft. I'm Hack Jocelyn, an' I'm wantin a word with you."
He was cool, insolent, and something else Jim could not name. "Aren't you one of my cowboys?" asked Jim.
"I've been ridin' with the Diamond, if thet's what you mean. But I ain't shore I'm stayin' with the outfit."
Jim had been told by no less an authority than Ring Locke that horses and men could not separate the Diamond outfit. "You're not, eh? Well, you want to be pretty sure, or you won't be riding for it. What do you want?"
Jocelyn appeared to be gauging Jim.
"I was in Babbitt's an' they told me they'd sent out a wagonload of barbed wire to the ranch. Fer the Diamond outfit! An' I calls him a liar."
"Then you'll have to apologize. It was for the Diamond. And there's a carload more ordered."
"Hell you say!" ejaculated Jocelyn, in amaze and gathering anger. "An' what's it fer?"
"None of your business, Jocelyn," retorted Jim. "If you'd asked me civilly I'd have told you."
"But barbed wire is most used fer fences!" exclaimed the cowboy. His two comrades edged closer until they were beside him, watchful, hiding their feelings, if they had any. "An' nobody in Gawd's world would reckon the Diamond'd have anything to do with
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