“Does that mean your father is going to give in to them?” demanded the obstinate foreman. “If that’s the case just count me out. I resign on the spot. I’d fight the whole camp before I’d knuckle down to a lot of rascals.”
“All right, Mr. Riley; your resignation is accepted,” said Frank, as the door opened, and he stepped into the building. “My father has seen for some time that you and the men here had bad blood between you; and he wants you on the ranch, if you will come, to fill a position that pays better than being overseer at the mine.”
Riley, who was certainly a fighter, looked uncertain.
“Well,” said he, “it sure does make me tired to think these plotters are going to soft-soap Colonel Haywood; but perhaps, after all, its best. They would burn the buildings down, and cause a big loss. But see here, Frank, who will be boss after I’m gone?”
Frank turned and looked smilingly at McCoy.
“Dad has had this gentleman in his eye for some little time; how do you think he’d fill the bill, Mr. Riley?” he asked.
The deposed overseer waited for a minute, as though trying to conquer the natural feeling of bitterness that almost overwhelmed him. Then he impulsively thrust out his hand to Sandy.
“You couldn’t do better,” he said. “I honestly believe Sandy McCoy will make good. Besides, I reckon he’s got the confidence of the men, and that’s what I was never able to get.”
“Then it’s all right, Mr. Riley,” Frank remarked. “As you find the time, please put the new overseer in touch with all the affairs of the company that he ought to know. And when that is done my father will want to see you at the ranch.”
“Very good, Frank,” said Mr. Riley. “You got here just in the nick of time. From the way things were going I’m afraid there’d have been warm work before another sun came up. I had six guns back of me, with one man and two boys to help. But now we’ll try and forget all about the trouble. I suppose you’ll have the men get a committee together, formulate their demands, and then pass on ’em?”