"Oh, yes, that's all right," assented Dave, and still his voice had no ring to it. "Mr. Molick is influential all right—too much so, at times."
"You don't seem to like him," said Mr. Bellmore. "I wish you would be frank with me. I am a stranger in these parts, and I have to depend on residents here for my information, and, in a large part, for my success. I know nothing about the Molicks."
"Well, since you asked me to be frank," went on Dave, "I will be, and I'll say you haven't missed much by not knowing the Molicks—especially Len. I'm after him now, for I suspect him of having tried to do us a serious injury."
"Is that so! That's too bad. If I had known that—"
"Oh, don't let me prejudice you against them," Dave went on. "Mr. Molick may be able to do business with you in the way you want. I am not speaking from the business end of it. Personally I don't like the Molicks," and Dave mentioned the cattle stampede.
"Well, if he did that I should say he wasn't a person to be trusted," said the Chicago man. "But still—"
"Of course. I'm not certain of it," Dave continued. "I'm going to find out about the sawed posts, though. But see Mr. Molick yourself, and make up your own mind about him."
"I will, but I shall be on my guard on account of what you have said. It is well to know the character of the man one is dealing with. I'm afraid though," he added as a spasm of pain crossed his face, "that I sha'n't be able to do any active business for a while," and he glanced down at his injured foot.
"We'll soon be at the ranch," Dave remarked. "The rest of the trail is easy."
Dave was thinking of many things as his pony ambled on, followed by Mr. Bellmore's horse. It was strange, the manner in which he had come to help the injured man, and it was stranger still that the latter should be seeking to do business with the Molicks of whom the members of the Bar U ranch had no very high opinion.