"How'd you like to have yore wages lowered?"
"Meanin'—"
"That I'll give you a job."
Young Roberts had a capacity for silence. He asked no questions now, but waited for Ellison to develop the situation.
"With the Rangers. Dollar a day an' furnish yore own bronc," explained the Captain.
"The State of Texas is liberal," said the cowboy with dry sarcasm.
"That's as you look at it. If you're a money-grubber, don't join us. But if you'd like to be one of the finest fightin' force in the world with somethin' doin' every minute, then you'd better sign up. I'll promise that you die young an' not in yore bed."
"Sounds right attractive," jeered the red-haired youngster with amiable irony.
"It is, for men with red blood in 'em," retorted the gray-haired fire-eater hotly.
"All right. I'll take your word for it, Captain. You've hired a hand."