Chapter Nine
The Lost Horse
Business took a midsummer slump, and Jim found time hanging heavy on his hands. There were few calls for his services from the general public, and even Colonel Flesher had no cattle to be driven to market. Jim tried to persuade the stock buyer that it would be cheaper to drive hogs to town than to truck them. While the colonel had much confidence in his young assistant, he wisely concluded that driving hogs was beyond even Jim and Ticktock.
Jim still went to town almost daily, partly to exercise his mustang and partly because he liked to hang around the newspaper office. He helped wherever possible, but probably hindered more than he helped, as he had so many questions. The linotype machine fascinated him, and he begged Bill Arnold to let him learn how to operate it.
“If I do,” said the editor jokingly, “the first thing I know you’ll have that horse in here helping you. I’m afraid his feet would be too heavy for the keys.”
“I need something to do,” urged Jim. “There’s a fierce depression in my line of business.”
“Your overhead is low though,” pointed out Arnold. “That cayuse of yours is getting his feed from my back yard.”
“Operating expenses may be low right now, but there is a long winter ahead,” said Jim with a worried frown. His cash was accumulating too slowly to suit him.
One day Arnold came out of his office waving a slip of paper. “Here’s a fine opportunity for you and that wonderful horse to show your stuff.”
“A big job?” asked Jim excitedly.
“Do you happen to know Mr. Hernstadt?” asked the editor.