"I'm looking for a man with nerve," explained Parker, with equal succinctness. "You're the man."
"Well?"
"Do you know the country south of here?"
The stranger's eyes narrowed.
"Proceed," said he.
"I'm foreman of the Lazy Y of Soda Springs Valley range," explained Parker. "I'm looking for a man with sand enough and sabe of the country enough to lead a posse after cattle-rustlers into the border country."
"I live in this country," admitted the stranger.
"So do plenty of others, but their eyes stick out like two raw oysters when you mention the border country. Will you tackle it?"
"What's the proposition?"
"Come and see the old man. He'll put it to you."