“N-no, I haven’t,” faltered Davy. “Maybe I can find some though.”
“We can rake up a quilt or two for you,” offered Mr. Majors. But Billy spoke quickly.
“No; we’ll fix him out with bedding. We’ve some extra quilts at the house, Mr. Majors. I’ll get them on our way out.”
“Can you go out with him, Billy, and tell him what to do? Number two herd is out six miles. You can find it. Stop at the fort and tell Mr. Russell to furnish him a mule.”
“Yes, sir.”
“All right. You take him and post him.” Mr. Majors extended his hand to Davy, who shook with him. “Do your duty, and a little more whenever you have the chance; don’t curse, don’t learn to drink, keep Sunday as much as you can, read the Bible, and look people in the face. Don’t do anything your mother wouldn’t want you to do. I hope to hear a good report of you. We need the right kind of men in the west, and the boy like you will make the man of to-morrow.”
“Yes, sir,” said Davy. “I’ll try.”
He followed Billy out; and they remounted their ponies.
“Good,” remarked Billy, as they rode away up the thronged street. “Mr. Majors is a queer sort, but he’s the right stuff. He’s a crank on swearing and drinking. We all have to sign that pledge, and if he hears a man swearing he goes straight to him and makes him quit. But everybody likes Mr. Majors, and they all try to keep the pledge. Mr. Russell isn’t so strict, though he backs up Mr. Majors. That’s a new wrinkle to the plains—that pledge business.”