"Sit down," grunted the ranchman, motioning Bob to one of the straight-backed chairs while he himself sank into the rocker.
As Bob obeyed, the dog stretched himself at his feet.
Searchingly the ranchman scanned the boy's face, and the silence was becoming embarrassing when Ford broke it by demanding suddenly:
"What did you say your name was?"
"Bob Nichols."
"Where do you come from?"
"New York."
This answer caused the ranchman to sit up straight and again scrutinize the boy's features, as he asked:
"Got any folks?"
"No, sir."