The other men were much of the same stamp, all of them elderly, one or two efficient, but working for Jake Harper because they had appealed to his soft side, not because they were first-class range men. Jake introduced Robinson as a new hand who was going to do some special work for him, and let it go at that. Few of the men paid much attention or seemed interested.
To Robinson the meal was tragic. He had looked for help here, and found none. When it was over, he pushed back his chair and left. Out in the open air, he found Arnold at his elbow, with a quiet chuckle.
“Live bunch, ain’t it?” opined Arnold. “Looks to me, Red, like you was some disappointed.”
“What at?” queried Robinson.
“Ain’t my business.” Arnold rolled a cigarette with elaborate carelessness. “Only, I ain’t seen you throw no war bag into a bunk. I been thinkin’ more or less about quittin’ here anyhow, and applying for a job over to the Lazy S.”
“Oh!” said Robinson. “Call you Mister Arnold over there, would they?”
“It’s always been Steve around home.”
“Oh! All right, Steve. You and me, what say we go ridin’ for a change?”
“Your hoss look plumb wore out, Red.”
“Maybe we can get Jake to lend us a bit o’ flesh. What about it, Jake?” Robinson turned, as Jake Harper joined them under the stars. “Steve, here, he allows there’s too much excitement around these parts to suit him. I agrees with him plenty. Can I put my rope on a couple of your broncs and get Steve to take me out and show me the country?”