“Looks to me like a pretty good bunch of steers,” he commented, and then added carelessly: “What sort of a guy is this Tex Lynch, anyhow?”
Bud hesitated briefly, sending a swift, momentary glance toward the bunk-house.
“Oh, he’s all right, I guess,” he answered slowly.
Stratton grinned. “If you don’t look out you’ll be overpraising him, kid,” he chuckled.
Jessup shrugged his shoulders. “I didn’t say I liked him,” he defended. “He knows his business all right.”
“Oh, sure. Otherwise, I s’pose he wouldn’t hold down his job. But what I want to know is the kind of boss he is. Does he treat the fellows white, or is he a sneak?”
Bud’s face darkened. “He treats some of ’em white enough,” he snapped.
“That so? Favorites, eh? I’ve met up with that kind before. Is he hard to get on the right side of?”
“Dunno,” growled the youngster. “I never tried.”
Buck chuckled again. “Well, kid, so long as you don’t seem to think it’s worth while, I dunno why I should take the trouble. Who else is on the outs with him?”