“What crime has he committed?”
“Well, it ain’t a crime exactly, but—well, boss, I give him an easy job to do—a kid’s job—Sandy could a done it, and I’m switched if he didn’t double over and faint dead away at the first bat of the brand. Never seen nothing like it in my life. At the first sniff! Why, a baby could——”
“Do you wish me to understand that you fired an employee of my ranch because he had the temerity to be ill?”
His irritation, far from being appeased, was steadily mounting.
“Dad,” interrupted Hilda, stepping forward suddenly. “It wasn’t illness. It was worse than that. It was plumb cowardice.”
“Cowardice! Look in the dictionary for the proper definition of that word, young woman. A man doesn’t faint from cowardice. He runs away—hides—slinks off——”
“That’s what he did—in France. He confessed it when he came to. Tried to excuse himself by saying it was constitutional. Just as if anyone could be a constitutional coward. Bully Bill is right, Dad. O Bar O cannot employ that kind of men.”
“Who is running this ranch?” demanded P. D., with rising wrath, thumping upon the table, and upsetting the last of the chess men and then the table itself.
“But, Dad——”
“Silence!”