"Because they want me, I suppose."
"What do they want you for? And who wants you?"
"Humph! I'm not going to tell everybody that," said the other, with a side glance at the bearded man, indicating that Post was the person he did not care to confide in.
"Well, is your name Theodore Chester?" Hiram asked in some desperation.
"I suppose it is. At least, that is what I have always called myself."
"Now you know, Ted, I always treated you right," began the bearded man.
But Hiram stopped him. He waved a commanding hand.
"Get those calves into that pen. If Ted wants to talk to you, he can do so afterward. But it doesn't seem to me as though it was any of our business whether he is Ted Chester or somebody else."
"Well, I tell you right now," growled the farmer. "I ain't going to lose that fifty if I can help it."
When the calves were unloaded and the real Orrin Post had driven away grumbling, Ted Chester—if that was his name—turned to look at Hiram in rather a sheepish fashion.