Bud frowned prodigiously. The situation did not seem to promise much. And naturally enough, being a Westerner, Bud disliked to come out flatfooted and ask for work.
His frown deepened as the supervisor asked another question: "Do you think you could hold down my job, Bud?"
"Say, John, I've stood for a lot in my time. But, honest, I was lookin' for a job as ranger. I can ride yet. And if I do say it I know every hill and cañon, every hogback and draw and flat from here to the Tonto Basin."
"I know it. I was coming to that. The grazing-leases are the most important items just now. You know cattle, and you know something about the Service. You have handled men. I am not joking."
"Well, this is like a hobo gettin' up his nerve to ask for a san'wich, and havin' the lady of the house come runnin' with a hot apple pie. I'll tackle anything."
"Well, the Department has confidence enough in me to suggest that I name a successor, subject to their approval. Do you think that you could hold down this job?"
"If settin' on it would hold it down, it would never get up alive,
John. But I ain't no author."
"Author?"
"Uh-uh. When it comes to facts, I aim to brand 'em. But them reports to headquarters—"
The supervisor laughed. "You would be entitled to a clerk. The man I have would like to stay. And another thing. I have just had an application from young Adams, of Stacey. He wrote from St. Johns. He wants to get into the Service. While we are at it, what do you know about him?"