Arthur glanced up at him and nodded without speaking. The stranger was a fine-looking man, with a military cut of beard, getting gray. His face was ruddy and smiling.
"Thank you. I am rather tired," Arthur said, as he settled into the seat. "I guess I'll have to own up, I'm about played out."
"I thought you looked foot-sore. I'm enough of a Western man to feel mean when I pass a man on the road. A footman can get very tired on these stretches of ours."
"I've tramped about forty miles to-day, I guess. I'm trying to find some work to do," he added, in desperate confidence.
"Is that so? What kind of work?"
"Well, I wanted to get a place as foreman on a ranch."
"I'm afraid that's too much to expect."
Arthur sighed.
"Yes, I suppose it is. If I'd known as much two weeks ago as I do now, I wouldn't be here."
"Oh, don't get discouraged; there's plenty of work to do. I can give you something to do on my place."