“Who? Elam? Oh, yes! You can trust him anywhere.”
“I mean he wouldn’t let harm come to Bob without making a fuss about it.”
“No, sir,” said I, rather astonished at the proposition. “I don’t see that any harm can come to him out here.”
“Well, I don’t know,” said Mr. Davenport, with a heavy sigh, which told how heavily the matter bore on his mind, “I don’t know.”
Not to dwell too long on incidents that are not connected with this story, I will simply say that we were presented to two of the cowboys that night at supper time as the fellows Mr. Davenport had employed to help him drive his cattle north, our duties to begin on the day the march commenced. I took a great notion to the two men—tall, rawboned, and rough, and the simple and earnest manner in which they agreed with their employer on all questions concerning the conduct of the farmers, in keeping his cattle out on the barren prairie where there was neither water nor grass to be had, made me think that their hearts were in the matter.
During the next week I noticed that Bob and Elam went off somewhere immediately after breakfast and did not get back before night. That was all right to me, but I wanted to make sure that Elam knew what he was doing, so one day when I got a chance to speak to him in private I said:
“What do you and Bob do when you are gone all day?”
“Sho!” said Elam, with a laugh. “He just makes me lay under the trees and tell him stories.”
“You are sure no harm comes to him?”
“Harm? What is going to harm him out here?”