"Hey?"
"I said you must be Mr. Jones," Bob repeated.
"Don't know the gent. He may be——" then Slim stopped short and turned as red as his thick coating of tan would allow. "Now you mention it, my name is Jones," he said slowly. "Yer see," he grinned, "that's the first time I've been called anything 'cept Slim fer so long that hanged if fer a minute, I didn't remember what my proper handle is, but it's Jones, all right."
"My name is Robert Lakewood and this is my brother John, but our friends call us Bob and Jack," Bob explained.
"But how'd you know my handle?" Slim demanded.
"Why, Mr. Leeds told us about you," Bob replied.
"An' me not bein' hard ter describe I reckon yer had not much trouble in recognizing me. Yer see, I'm the only fat man on the ranch an' that's why they call me Slim. But I reckon we'd better be hittin' the trail or we won't get back afore dark. You wait right here till I get the team an' we'll pull freight. Yer see, I had ter hitch the bronks a piece down the street 'cause they ain't used ter the cars, but I'll be right back."
"Reckon we'll like that fellow," Bob said as soon as Slim was out of hearing.
"I do already," Jack agreed. "But he's sure a character, all right. Do you suppose he can ride a horse?"
"If they've got one strong enough," Bob laughed.