"Nothing."

"Been satisfactory?"

"Never had a boy more so. Good-hearted, willing, a plumb dare-devil with
a horse."

"And worthless," suggested the post-trader.

"Well--not yet. He's headed that way."

"Been punching cattle long?"

"Came in the country about seventy-eight, I believe, and rode for the
Bordeaux Outfit most a year, and quit. Blew in at Cheyenne till he went
broke, and worked over on to the Platte. Rode for the C. Y. Outfit most a
year, and quit. Blew in at Buffalo. Rode for Balaam awhile on Butte
Creek. Broke his leg. Went to the Drybone Hospital, and when the fracture
was commencing to knit pretty good he broke it again at the hog-ranch
across the bridge. Next time you're in Cheyenne get Dr. Barker to tell
you about that. McLean drifted to Green River last year and went up over
on to Snake, and up Snake, and was around with a prospecting outfit on
Galena Creek by Pitchstone Canyon. Seems he got interested in some
Dutchwoman up there, but she had trouble--died, I think they said--and he
came down by Meteetsee to Wind River. He's liable to go to Mexico or
Africa next."

"If you need him," said the post-trader, closing his ledger, "you can
offer him five more a month."