"What do you think you are worth to a man who ain't got no authority to do any hirin'?" said Calumet.
"Ain't you the boss?" said Dade, disappointedly.
"The boss is a woman. If you're wantin' to work you can come along. You'll have to take your chance. Otherwise—"
"I'll go you," said the puncher. He threw his saddle into the wagon. "You said somethin' about a drink," he added, "if you had anything left. I'm hopin'—"
Calumet hesitated.
"Just one," said Dade. "Mebbe two. Not more than three—or four. If your ranch is far—"
"Twenty miles."
"About two, then," suggested Dade. "You wouldn't feel satisfied to know that it was here an' you left it."
"Well, then, get a move on you," growled Calumet. He followed Dade into the Red Dog.
It was quiet in the barroom. Three men sat at a table near the center of the room, laughing and talking. They looked up with casual interest as Dade and Calumet entered, favored them with quick, appraising glances, and then resumed their talk and laughter. Behind the bar the proprietor waited, indolently watching.