"Any cattle thieves been getting in their work?"
"Well, I haven't heard of any, and I have had the cattle rounded up three or four times and counted them; but I haven't much faith in the accuracy of the count. I am beginning to suspect that both ranches have lost a few, for I fear that the cowboys haven't kept as strict a watch as they should have done. One day three big, rough follows came into the store and wanted to raise a rough house, and I requested one of my cowboys to go in there with me and help me to preserve the peace. Do you remember that fellow whose name was Nick Henderson?"
"Yes, I know him," said Terry. "Did he stand by you all right?"
"You can bet he did. I wouldn't swap him for any of the cowboys I've seen since I landed here. He doesn't understand the science of boxing, but he does know how to use his muscles and no mistake, for he fanned out two of those fellows with bare fists. One of them wanted to use his gun, but I drew mine, and said that I would shoot first; so Nick just cleaned out both of them, and I believe he is like you and Mr. Fearnot–not afraid of anything. He is now said to be the best man on either ranch, and he feels proud of the name."
Jack pointed out the house which he assigned to the carpenters, saying that they had built bunks, brought down their own blankets and cooking utensils, and that they were all satisfied with their work and their way of living.
"I furnish them meat and bread," he said, "and they do their own cooking, and I've been cooking my own meals, too."
"What sort of a cook are you, Jack."
"Well, I guess I weigh at least ten pounds more than I did when you left here. Whether it is good cooking or not, I don't know; but it is good, wholesome fare. I made coffee just as you taught me. I'm not good at making biscuit, but I can make a good hoe-cake."
They went into Jack's kitchen, and looking at his utensils, saw that he had a place for everything, and everything in its place.
"Jack; how did you learn to cook so well?" Terry asked.