"You bet," agreed the foreman; "now you're talking! I always, said they was mineralised enough to make a good prospect."
This was unsatisfactory. Senor Johnson grew more restless. His critical eye began to take account of small details. At the ranch house one evening he, on a sudden, bellowed loudly for Sang, the Chinese servant.
"Look at these!" he roared, when Sang appeared.
Sang's eyes opened in bewilderment.
"There, and there!" shouted the cattleman. "Look at them old newspapers and them gun rags! The place is like a cow-yard. Why in the name of heaven don't you clean up here!"
"Allee light," babbled Sang; "I clean him."
The papers and gun rags had lain there unnoticed for nearly a year. Senor Johnson kicked them savagely.
"It's time we took a brace here," he growled, "we're livin' like a lot of Oilers." [5]
[5] Oilers: Greasers—Mexicans