Clenched hands on hips, a characteristic attitude, the Bull scrutinized in the now steadily deepening dusk of the night the young fellow sturdily and coolly facing him, apparently unmoved and unafraid.
"Want chu to be ready first thing in the morning to ride over to Barstairs. Want chu to git them bulls in shape for the circuit. Goin' to exhibit in St. Louis, Kansas City, Chicago, San Francisco and other cities in the States. You do well by the bunch here and there's a bonus on your pay and you go along with the herd to the U. S."
Until this night the unexpected promotion would have elated Cyril. Now, in spite of his astonishment, he hesitated, and in his slow Scotch way turned the matter over in his mind. After a moment he said:
"I don't know as I want the job, boss. Fact is, I'm thinkin' of quittin'. Thinkin' of goin' on my own."
"On your own! You ain't got nothin' to go on your own with."
"I got my homestead. House's built, land partly fenced. I traded in my cattle for implements and I got six head of horses left, and that's not too bad as a starter."
"How far d'you think you can git on that much unless you got a stake behind you?"
The young man weighed this question thoughtfully and carefully. A bit sadly he replied:
"Not very far, but it'll do as a starter, and next year——"
"Next year ain't here yet. Besides it depends on what you're countin' on. You aimin' to get married?"