"Some of them bosses are bad," he insisted.
"To be sure they are—when wicked cowboys cuff and kick them," replied Lenore, laughingly.
"Wal, if I'm wicked, I'm a-goin' to war," said Jake, reflectively. "Them Germans bother me."
"But, Jake, you don't come in the draft age, do you?"
"Jest how old do you think I am?"
"Sometimes about fourteen, Jake."
"Much obliged. Wal, the fact is I'm over age, but I'll gamble I can pack a gun an' shoot as straight an' eat as much as any young feller."
"I'll bet so, too, Jake. But I hope you won't go. We absolutely could not run this ranch without you."
"Sure I knew thet. Wal then, I reckon I'll hang around till you're married, Miss Lenore," he drawled.
Again the scarlet mantled Lenore's cheeks.