The man gazed at him thoughtfully. There was something in Jack’s appearance, a certain wildness, which alarmed him a little.
“I don’t believe we care to employ any more deputies,” he said at last.
“I don’t want t’ be employed—I don’t want no wages—I’m a volunteer.”
At that moment, the door opened and a man came in,—a tall, thin man, whose head was bandaged and the skin of whose face was peeling off.
“Here, Jed,” said the man at the desk, glad to turn the task of dealing with a probable madman into more competent hands, “is a recruit. And, strangely enough, he doesn’t ask for pay.”
“It ain’t a bit strange,” protested Jack, and he explained briefly who he was.
When he had finished, Jed held out his hand.
“Shake,” he said. “That kid o’ your’n is all right—grit clear through. Will he git well?”
“Oh, he’ll git well, all right.”