"That's true. He would."
"Maybe it would be a good idee to watch him mighty close. They say he's a bad hombre. Might be unlucky for any one he got the drop on."
Tom knew he was being warned. "I'll look out for him," he promised.
The older man changed the subject smilingly. "Here's where C.N. Morse & Company turns over a leaf, son. No more business gambles. Legitimate trade only. That the idee you're figurin' on makin' me live up to?"
"Suits me if it does you," Tom answered cheerfully, "But where do
I come in? What's my job in the firm? You'll notice I haven't said
'Thanks' yet."
"You?" C.N. gave him a sly, dry smile. "Oh, all you have to do is to handle our business north of the line—buy, sell, trade, build up friendly relations with the Indians and trappers, keep friendly with the police, and a few little things like that."
Tom grinned.
"Won't have a thing to do, will I?"