“Well, now, between you and me,” said the cowboy, considerably mollified by this explanation, “he is as good as dead already. Sometimes, when I get up in the morning, I look around to see if he is all right, and there he is sitting on the porch. He gets up before I do.”
“Bob hasn’t got his tutor with him, has he?”
“His which?” asked the horseman.
“His private teacher,” explained Henderson. “He used to have one sticking to his heels wherever he went.”
“No; he’s alone. You will ride on and see him? It is only a matter of twenty miles.”
“No; I can’t. I will come out and see him at some future time. My business just now——”
“Now, pilgrim, you asked a good many questions regarding that man. I want to know if he has been doing something up in the States.”
“Not a thing! Not a solitary thing, I assure you.”
“’Cause if he has, I won’t let no man set there on his horse and tell me that,” continued the horseman, growing sullen again. “He’s as fair and square a man as there is.”
“He hasn’t been doing anything wrong. You may mention my name when you get home, and see if he doesn’t back up my story.”