They sat close together, chatted and laughed, and indulged in jokes at the expense of those around them, careless alike of the feelings that were hurt or the resentment engendered.
As Fred approached he saw Bud turn his head and speak to the stranger, who instantly centered his gaze on the boy, so there could be no doubt that his attention was called to him.
Fred was moving rather timidly toward Kincade, when the stranger raised his hand and crooked his finger toward him. Wondering what he could want, Fred Sheldon diverged toward him and took off his hat.
"I wouldn't stand bareheaded, Freddy, dear," said Bud, with his old grin; "you might catch cold in your brains."
Neither of the others noticed this course remark, and the stranger, scrutinizing the boy with great interest, said:
"What is your name, please?"
"Frederick Sheldon."
"And you are the boy who locked the lion in the smoke-house last night when you heard the poor fellow trying to use his aged teeth on some bones?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well, you deserve credit; for you thought, like everybody else, that he was as fierce as he was a dozen years ago. Well, all I want to say, Fred, is that I'm Cyrus Sutton, stopping here at the hotel, and I'm somewhat interested in cattle. Bud, here, doesn't feel very well, and he's got leave of absence for two or three days and is going to stay at home. Bud and I are strong friends, and I've formed a rather good opinion of you and I congratulate you on having earned such a respectable pile of money. Mr. Kincade is ready and glad to pay you."