"I'll trouble you for that dollar, and I'll keep him now," he said.
"Can you wait until I come down next week, Carter?"

"Oh, yes," said the rancher. "Your promise is good enough for a year
or two."

The speaker was a sinewy bushman in curiously patched overalls with a
bronzed and honest face, and he turned aside with a little gesture of
dislike, when a man of a very different stamp pushed by him. The
latter wore a black felt hat and a great fur-lined coat, while his face
was pale and fleshy and his eyes were cunning. His appearance
suggested prosperity and a life of indulgence in the cities, and when
he stopped in front of Alton the latter would have lost little by any
comparison between the pair. The pose of his sinewy figure and the
clear brownness of his skin spoke of arduous labour, sound sleep, and
the vigour that comes from a healthful occupation. The steady
directness of his gaze and quiet immobility of his face also conveyed
an indefinite suggestion of power and endurance, and there was a
curious grace in his movements when he turned courteously towards the
stranger.

"You soon fixed him, packer," said the city man.

Alton laughed. "The boys mostly call me rancher," said he. "Still, it
don't count for much, and I do some packing occasionally."

"That's all right," said the stranger sharply, for there was something
in Alton's answer which made him inclined to assert his dignity.
"Everybody seems to be a rancher hereaway, and you mayn't be too proud
to put through a job for me."