Mr. Waddell had been a stoutly-built man, with florid complexion and full, heavy face inclining to jaw. Mr. Majors was almost his opposite, being a rather tall man, although strongly built, with a kindly, sober face and a long brown beard. As Billy and Dave approached his desk he glanced up.
“How do you do, Mr. Majors?” said Billy, hat in hand.
“How are you, Billy?”
“This is my friend Dave Scott, Mr. Majors. He’s looking for a job. He’s been staying at my house since we came in last month with Lew Simpson’s train from Laramie. I’m going out again in a day or so, and he wants to get to work. We saw Mr. Russell up at the fort, and he said for us to come down here to see you.”
“When did you see him?” queried Mr. Majors crisply.
“We just come from him. He thought there might be a job of herding open.”
“That boy’s pretty young.”
“He’s not any younger than I was when I started in, Mr. Majors.” Billy spoke like a man, and Mr. Majors appeared to regard him as a man.
“Where are your parents?” asked Mr. Majors of Davy.
Dave gulped.