“Now will you try to get fresh with a tenderfoot?” asked one of the others when their laughter at Bob’s sharp rejoinder had subsided.

“I ain’t trying to get fresh,” returned Higgins.  “I’m just feeling the boy out.  The sooner he gets used to Fairfax ways, the better.”

But Bob’s retort evidently inspired in him a greater respect for the boy and he refrained from making any more comments on his personal appearance.

After the interchange of a few general remarks, Bob said: 

“I should be very grateful if some of you gentlemen would tell me of a ranch where I can apply for a job.  I’d rather like to get one without Mr. Thomas’ assistance.”

In this request Higgins saw his chance.  About ten miles from the settlement there lived a ranchman who was a man of mystery.  Though his grazing ground was good and well-watered, and his pay prompt, he had such a temper that few cowboys would stay with him longer than a month or less, and to him Higgins decided to send Bob.

With this purpose, while the others were evidently trying to think of a suitable place for the boy, he said: 

“There’s only one I can think of and that’s John Ford.”

“Ford?” repeated Bob, his memory instantly recalling what the strange man with the scar had said about Sam and John Ford.  “Where does he live?”

“Ten miles due west.”

“Now, Higgins, you know better than to send this boy out there.  Remember what Hal said about playing tricks on him.”

Evidently this reminder had an effect upon the schemer, for he answered apologetically: 

“Well, he asked about a place and I told him.  You know as well as I do that John Ford always wants help.”

“Sure we know it.  But it ain’t no fit place for such a boy.”

Something suggested to Bob, however, that he should go to this ranchman, and accordingly he said: 

“You needn’t think I am so tender.  Just because other men can’t get along with Mr. Ford is no sign I can’t.  What is the nearest way to get there?”

“So long as you’ve got to walk, go straight down the track till you see a building with a red roof, on the left hand side,” directed Higgins.

And before the others could protest, Bob uttered a hasty “thank you,” and set off along the track at a dog trot.

“You’ll get yours, Higgins, when Hal gets back,” asserted the man who protested against Bob’s being sent to Ford’s.

“And you didn’t even warn him about the dog,” chided another.

At this reminder of the savage wolfhound that John Ford kept to guard his cabin, the idlers grew serious and exchanged uneasy glances.

“Oh, well!  Ford’ll probably see the boy so long as he comes from the direction of the railroad.  Yellow Tom told me he sits by the hour looking toward the track—­and he’ll call off the brute.”

“Providing the beast don’t chew the boy up before John sees him,” interposed another.