“These city fellows think they kin come out here and make a fortune on a ranch,” he growled. “But after they’ve owned a place a year or two they find it ain’t so easy. A man has got to hustle like all git-out to make a living.”
“Where is your ranch located?” asked Fred.
“Our buildings are right behind that patch of timber,” was the reply. “It’s not so very much of a place, but it’s good enough for me.”
“And where is the Bimbel ranch?” questioned Gif.
“That’s up to the northward, over the top of yonder hill. But you young fellows had better give Bimbel a wide berth,” went on Jarley Bangs, with a shake of his head.
“Why?” asked Spouter.
“He don’t like no strangers hanging around, that’s why. If a stranger comes up to his door Bimbel always reaches for his gun. He had trouble years ago with some tramps, and he never got over it.”
After that Jarley Bangs had but little more to say. The boys had left the touring car, and now the man jumped inside, saw to it that everything was in order, and then asked Spouter to crank up for him.
“Ain’t no use to waste time here,” he remarked. “I’ve got to git back to what I was doing. I’ll tell Lester I saw you, and if he wants to he kin come over to Big Horn Ranch and visit—he ain’t of much account around my place. And I’ll git at the bottom of what happened to this auto, too, even if I have to lick it out of him.”
“I don’t think Lester will care to visit our ranch,” answered Spouter coldly.