produce real men. A man's got to be a man out here. Of course, though,"
he admitted kindly, "we don't know much except to ride, an' throw a
rope, an' shoot, mebby, once in a while."

The riders were returning and the Dean and the stranger walked back down
the little hill to the corral.

"You have a fine ranch here, Mr. Baldwin," again observed the stranger.

The Dean glanced at him sharply. Many men had tried to buy the
Cross-Triangle. This man certainly appeared prosperous even though he
was walking. But there was no accounting for the queer things that city
men would do.

"It does pretty well," the cattleman admitted. "I manage to make a
livin'."

The other smiled as though slightly embarrassed. Then: "Do you need any
help?"

"Help!" The Dean looked at him amazed.

"I mean--I would like a position--to work for you, you know."

The Dean was speechless. Again he surveyed the stranger with his
measuring, critical look. "You've never done any work," he said gently.

The man stood very straight before him and spoke almost defiantly. "No,
I haven't, but is that any reason why I should not?"