Somehow the question infuriated the Bull so that he shot it at the boy, despite his effort at self-control and his eyes blazed through the darkness. But Cyril was too absorbed in his own dreams to note the Bull's voice or manner. After a pause he answered slowly.
"Yes."
"You can't raise no family on what you got now," said the Bull hoarsely. "Things ain't the same as when I started in. You better wait a year or two. Take on this proposition I'm offerin' you and you'll be in better shape to do the right thing by the gell you marry then. There's a ten dollar a month raise for you and a bonus of a hundred at the end of the season."
A long pause, as this sunk into Cyril, and he slowly weighed the matter in his mind. A few months more or less would matter little to him and Nettie. The money would mean a lot. There were certain articles he had set his heart on buying for Nettie for the house, household utensils, of which a country traveling salesman, who had put up overnight at the Bar Q, had shown him enticing samples. Soon his mind was made up.
"Maybe you're right, boss. I'm on. Barstairs, eh? I'll be on the job first thing in the morning."
But when he rode out in the quiet dawn, with no one but Jake to bid him good-by, Cyril's heart was heavy, and as he went by the ranch house his glance sought Nettie's window, in the vain hope that she might by some chance be up and in sight. He had given Jake a message for her and felt sure that she would understand. It was a common occurrence for riders to be despatched on such trips as this, and Cyril was of a race that always puts duty before pleasure. Farsighted and canny, he was prepared to serve and wait an extra year if need be for the girl he loved.
At the thought of that future, shared with Nettie, his heart lifted. The grayness of the approaching dawn grew slowly lighter and the miracle of the sunrise broke over the sleeping land. Far and wide on all sides stretched an incomparable sky, a shadowy, gilded loveliness, as if a misty veil were slowly being unrolled till there burst into full bloom the marvelous sunglow of Alberta. Cyril's spirits rose with the sun and as his horse loped along the trail to Barstairs he lifted up his young voice and sang.