"Yes, sir!" was the emphatic promise.
"You see I've no idea how long I shall be detained out West, therefore I have no mind to leave you here. You might be ill. Besides, I should miss you, Don."
"I'd much rather go with you, father."
A quick light of pleasure flashed in the father's eyes.
"Then that's settled," he exclaimed decisively. "Now I'll tell you what I mean to do. I am not going to wire Crescent Ranch that we are coming. Instead we will drop down and surprise them. It won't take long to see how things are running, and even if it proves that everything is all right I shall not begrudge the trip, for I have felt for some time that I ought to go. Clark & Sons have owned that ranch for thirty years, and yet I have never been near it. It certainly is time I went."
"How did it happen you never did go, father?"
"Well, during your grandfather's life an old Scotchman managed the ranch and attended to shipping the wool. As we had nothing to do but to sell it, we did not bother much about the place, for we had perfect confidence in Old Angus, the manager. After your grandfather died, Uncle Harold and I had all we could do to attend to the business here. It grew so rapidly that it was about as much as two young fellows like ourselves could handle. We always meant to go out—one of us—but we never did. Then our faithful Scotchman died. We felt lost, I can tell you! He had had all the management of Crescent for twenty years and was one of the finest men in the world. He might have lived until now, perhaps, had he not been caught on the range in a blizzard while struggling to get a flock of sheep out of the storm and thereby lost his life."
Mr. Clark paused a moment.
"After him came Johnson. He has done his work well, so far as we know; but now he is out of the running too and we shall have to get some one else."
"Whom are you going to get?"