For some time employer and employee sat silent side by side. John's hands were busy with the four fresh horses he was guiding, and his mind with the real sorrow that filled it. He had never known Mr. Baker well; that familiar relation, unknown in the East, between employer and employed was prevented by John's absence on the range, but the boy was grateful for the kindness Mr. Baker had shown him.
"How long have you known Jerry, Worth?" the ranchman asked at length, touched by the boy's grief, and his interest aroused.
"Since I've worked for you only," was the answer. "Some people you never take to and some you know and like right off; Jerry was that kind. He always stood by me in quarrels, and many's the time he's stood a double watch 'cause he knew I was tired and he didn't want to wake me up. Yes, he stood by me through thick and thin."
"He was a good hand, too," interpolated Mr. Baker.
"He'd have divided his last dollar with me," continued John, more to himself than to his hearer. "I'd have done the same with him."
All this time they were travelling at full speed. The four horses yanked the heavy wagon along steadily over gullies and ridges, through valleys, and over hilltops.
A couple of hours passed in this way, during which John slowed the horses down over the rocky places and urged them forward where it was smooth.
"What are you going to do with your money, Worth?" said Mr. Baker, hoping to dispel some of the sadness that hung over the boy. "You've not spent much this year, have you?"
"'Bout three hundred dollars, I guess. Jerry and I thought of starting in with a little bunch of cows on our own hook, but——" The glance that John gave over his shoulder into the wagon finished the sentence.
"Did you ever think of going to school?" asked the ranchman, intent on his effort to divert the boy's thoughts.