"Oh, Red, quit kiddin'. Don't you see I got orders? I got orders."
"You're gettin' civilized fast, all right. The first thing civilization does is to projooce hobos and bums. Then she turns up her nose because hobos and bums ain't civilized. Did you ever see a ma cat get mad because one of her kittens was born with sore eyes? I guess not. Cats has got sense. Now, what if I don't indignify myself to the extent of crawlin' under that line fence?"
"'Course I'll bring you the coin in the mornin'. But if you don't go now, why, I got to quit this job. I got to play square to him."
"So it's orders or me, eh?"
"Yes, Red, and I want to use you right, and be square, too."
Overland Red's beard hid the quiver of his lips as he asked huskily: "And you would be comin' back on the road with your ole pal again? You would give up the job and the chance of a smile from that little Rose-Lady Girl and flew the coop with me again if I said the word?"
"Sure I would. You come first and the job comes second; but—but I want to keep the job."
Overland's keen blue eyes filled with instant emotion. "Oh, you go chase a snake up your sleeve. Do you think I'd bust your chances of makin' good here? Do you reckon I'd let a line fence stand between me and you, speakin' poetical? Say, I'll go camp in that sheriff gent's front yard if it'll do any good to you, or before I'll see you in bad with the little Rose Girl!"
"Please, Red; I mean it."
"So do I. I'll fade quicker than spit on a hot stove. Don't forget to-morrow mornin'. Some day I'll put you hep to how to ride. You better get to your fence job."