But the next instant the presence of the man was called to his attention by a terrific roar: 

“Chester!”

Amazed at hearing his name, Bob gazed open-mouthed toward the house.

By this time, the man had come out onto the ground and the boy beheld a tall, spare-boned man, with weather-tanned face, a scrubby beard, and a mass of tousled hair.

The dog, however, paid no heed to the voice, rubbing against Bob and licking his hands.

Again came the bellow.

“Chester!  Come here!”

Too alarmed by the imperiousness of the tone to wonder how the secret of his identity could be known by this man of the plains, Bob called: 

“Yes, sir.  Right away, sir.”

But if the hearing of his name had caused Bob surprise, his response created more in the man.

“Oh!  It’s not you I want!” he yelled.  “It’s that fool dog!  Come here, sir!”

But the dog obeyed no better than before.

A moment the ranchman glared at it, his face terrible in its anger, then dropped his hand to his hip and drew forth a revolver.

Divining his intention, Bob leaped in front of the dog, exclaiming: 

“Don’t shoot, sir!  The dog has done nothing!”

“Done nothing, eh?  I suppose you call making friends with a stranger nothing.  Stand aside!”

But Bob did not move.

“Just because a dog makes friends with me is no reason for shooting him,” he retorted.

A moment the man glowered sullenly from the dog to the boy, then, attracted by something about the latter, came closer and peered eagerly into Bob’s face.

“Who are you?” he demanded.

“Bob Nichols.”

“Nichols, eh?  Then I must have been mistaken,” he added in a voice too low for the boy to hear, and a look of disappointment settled on his face as he continued aloud:  “Well, what do you want?”

“You are Mr. Ford, I presume?” asked Bob.

“I am; John Ford, owing no man a cent and afraid of nothing, or no one on earth.”

Smiling at this unusual introduction, Bob said: 

“I came out to ask if you’d give me a job on your ranch, Mr. Ford.”

“Know anything about ranching?”

“No, sir.  But I can learn.”

“Who sent you to me?”

“A Mr. Higgins.”

“Ned Higgins, eh?  Trying another of his jokes, I suppose.  Probably thought the dog would chew you up.”

Then for a moment that seemed hours to the anxious boy, the ranchman pondered, finally exclaiming: 

“Well, we’ll fool Higgins this time.  I’ll take you on for a try.  You’re sure game or you wouldn’t have stood before that fool dog, the way you did.  Come in and we’ll talk about wages.”

And, as Bob entered the cabin, Ford turned to look at the dog, muttering to himself: 

“Strange, mighty strange.  I never knew him to make friends with any one before.”