"Your letters would not have reached them in time, I suppose," he said at last.
"Well, that's the fact, at any rate," replied Macfarren roughly. "We won't want a minister. We are thoroughly well supplied. We don't need one, and we cannot support one."
He was turning away without further words when he was arrested by the sharp and peremptory voice of the old gentleman, who had remained behind Shock during the conversation.
"Macfarren, this gentleman is a stranger, I presume. Will you kindly present me?"
"Oh—ah—certainly," said Macfarren, wheeling his pony and looking rather ashamed. "Mr." looking at the letter.
"Macgregor," said Shock quietly.
"Mr. Macgregor, this is General Brady, one of our leading ranchers."
"I am delighted to make your acquaintance, sir," said General Brady, shaking Shock warmly by the hand. "You will find us rough and wild, but, sir, I am glad to say we are not all a blank lot of boors."
"Thank you, sir," said Shock, with a sudden flush on his face.
"Oh—ah—certainly we are glad to have you visit our town," said Macfarren, as if trying to atone for his former rudeness. "And, of course, it is no fault of yours, Mr.—ah—"