"Don't you fret," sneered Thornton. "I sounded him last night. He's a tenderfoot. I don't believe he knows a thing about sheeping."
Mr. Clark drew Donald into the sun-flooded field before he spoke.
Then, after a thoughtful silence he turned:
"Well, Don?"
"I wouldn't have that Thornton here another day, father!" broke out the boy hotly.
"Slowly, son, slowly! We must be sure about Thornton before we condemn him. He has been ten years on the ranch; more than that, we are without a manager, and we have none in view. Remember 'he stumbles who runs fast.' Take time, Don, take time."
Donald flushed.
"I know it is the best way, but I was so angry to hear him talking that way about you."
"Loyalty is a fine trait, Don." Mr. Clark laid his hand affectionately on his son's shoulder. "I like to see you loyal. But in this matter we must move slowly."
"What about this dipping, father? What is it?"