The loungers took it upon themselves to see that the broncho was properly harnessed; and now that it was no longer necessary to limit the weight of the supplies, the shopkeeper suggested that the amount of flour and bacon be doubled.
"Will ten dollars be enough to pay for it?" Dick asked.
"We'll make a charge of it, seein's you're goin' to work for Bob Mason. You can give me an order on him after you've been here a spell, an' it'll be the same thing as cash."
"Now you're doin' the square thing, Mansfield," Mason said approvingly; and despite Dick's protests that he preferred to pay his way so long as he had the money, the matter was thus arranged.
"You are sure I can earn enough to pay for what we'll need to eat between now and spring?" the boy asked doubtfully.
"I'm allowing from what I've seen, that you'll earn a man's wages, an' that'll be thirty dollars a month. If your father is anything like you, I'll guarantee he can find work enough to support the family; an' Antelope Spring is needin' settlers mighty bad."
The supply of provisions and the medicines were packed in a bag, divided into two portions of equal weight that they might be carried over the saddle, and then Dick was ready to mount.
He realized fully how kind the people of the town had been to him, and was eager to say that which should give token of the gratitude in his heart; but the words refused to come at his bidding.
He stammered in the attempt to speak, cleared his throat nervously, and tried again,—
"You've been mighty good, all hands, an' I'm thinkin' it'll help daddy pull through. I wish—I wish"—