“And Mr. Carlisle?” she asked in great astonishment.
“Like W. B. Grady, he is down and out,” replied Roderick. “There’s been a clean sweep. And behold in me a full-blossomed member of the board of directors. Our chairman, the Major, has handed me over a small library of books about smelting of ores, company management, and so on. He tells me I’ve got to get busy and learn the business—that I’m slated as vice-president and assistant manager, or something of that kind. What do you think of all that, Mr. Shields? There’s a rise in the world for your cowboy and broncho-buster of a few months ago.”
The cattle king and all the others warmly congratulated Roderick on his rising fortunes. Dorothy now took the lead in the conversation.
“You folks, keep still a moment until I ask Mr. Warfield just one question,” she said eagerly.
“Oh,” exclaimed Roderick, quickly, “I can answer the question. No, Grant Jones has not been over to Encampment for quite a while.”
A general laugh followed.
“He has a devil over at his office,” added Roderick gravely.
“A what?” they exclaimed.
“A devil. You surely know what a devil in a printing office is? It is a young fellow who washes the ink from the rolls and cleans the type or something of that sort—sweeps out, makes fires and does a wholesale janitor business. If he is faithful for fifteen or twenty years, then he learns to set type and becomes a printer. Grant is breaking his new devil in. Scotty Meisch, formerly one of your father’s cowboys, is his name.”
“Oh, little Scotty,” exclaimed Barbara. “I remember him.”