“Thompson,” said Mr. Preston, suddenly putting his hand into his pocket, “do me the favor to keep this key. I am not as strong as I used to be——”
“I know you are not,” said the foreman sadly. “Time was when you would have gloried to have somebody come here with the intention of walking off with the contents of that safe, but it ain’t so now. I will take the key, and if anybody gets it, it will be when I am laid out.”
Thompson rode off to attend to his duties, feeling much better than he did when he began his conversation with his employer. He was hale and strong, a dead shot, as utterly devoid of fear as it is possible for a man to be, and it would be a dangerous piece of business for one to attempt to put his hand onto that key while it was in his possession.
“I feel all right now,” said Thompson, who drew a long breath of relief. “I have been worrying about that key ever since Claude has been here, but now I would like to see him get it. Many a time, before Claude came here, I have seen Mr. Preston go off and leave the key to that safe sticking in the lock for weeks at a time, and nobody ever thought of going near it. He has been a little cautious about that ever since I spoke to him concerning it. I’ll take the cook into my confidence. He is a sure shot, keeps his revolvers hung up where he can put his hands on them at an instant’s warning, and with him watching in the house and me watching outside we have the dead wood on them.”
The conversation had a very different effect upon Mr. Preston. He became suspicious of everybody. He watched his men and Claude continually; and, though they were always respectful in their manner toward him, he felt that there was something behind it all. One reason was because Claude had not yet talked with the men. He was waiting for them to “show their hands,” and that came about right speedily. When the fall round-up came, and the young cattle had to be branded, it chanced that Claude and the two men were together during the best part of the day. As long as Thompson was with them they went about their work in earnest; but when the foreman went away, Harding, who seemed to have been waiting for this opportunity, entered upon the subject at once. He must have known just how the matter was coming out, or he would have been a little more cautious about it.
“You say your uncle treats all his hands mean,” said he, addressing himself to Claude. “I think he treats us all right.”
“No doubt he does you,” replied Claude, “but he is only waiting for an opportunity to turn loose on you. If we should let these steers get away from us and start toward the entrance of the valley, then you would see what kind of a man uncle is.”
“Well, I don’t know as I blame him any for that,” said Harding. “There are lots of cattle on the prairie for them to mingle with.”
“You ought to be in my place once,” said Claude. “You would get a blessing every night for not doing your work up right. I tell you, I am getting sick of it.”
“Why don’t you quit him?”