"Say, who's your crack fence-builder around here?" asked Red. "The man that can make two pickets grow where only one grew before and do it so easy that it's a pleasure to sit and look at him?"
"Hey?" inquired the smith, not precisely getting the meaning of the address.
"Why, I've got a fence to build," exclaimed Red. "And now I want some help—want it so bad, I'll produce to the extent of three a day and call it a day from now 'till six o'clock—any takers here? Make your bets while the little ball rolls."
The loungers understood the general drift of this and pricked up their ears, as did the blacksmith. "Guess one of the boys will help you," said the latter.
"Well, who's it?" asked Red, glancing at the circle of faces. Three dollars a day was enormous wages in that part of the country. Nobody knew just what to say.
"Oh, well!" cried Red, "let's everybody run—I reckon I can find something to do for the five of you—are you with me?"
"Yes, sir," they said promptly.
"Can I borrow a hammer or so off you, old man?" questioned Red of the smith.
"Certainly, sir," returned the latter heartily.
"Take what you want."
"Much obliged—and the gate hinges are out of whack—Miss Saunders' place, you know—come over and take a squint at 'em in the near by-and-by, will you? May as well fix it up all at once—come on, boys!"