Dakota came blustering under the gangway.
"West's got his job to do, Mr. Aikens. Let him alone."
Cockney lolled against the railing, looking with twisted lips down into Dakota's sullen eyes.
"Shall I lift him up where he can see everything, Dakota, and protect him from your bullying?"
Something about it made Dakota's eyes drop.
"Don't mind him, West," soothed the foreman. "You come over here and stand on the fence. As long as you don't get in the way about the gangways you're all right."
Stamford failed to see how any one on the fence, except at the gangways, could see more of the cattle than their backs.
Cockney Aikens watched Dakota thoughtfully as the latter pulled himself to the other gangway. Then he climbed to his old perch on the roof and lay on his elbow without lighting his cigarette. And Mary Aikens watched her husband.
"Poor West!" sympathised Stamford. "He leads a dog's life. I can feel for small men."
He saw she was not listening. "I was saying——"