“A leader!”
“Howdy thar, Jim,” boomed a big voice.
A man of great bulk, with a ruddy, merry face, entered the room.
“Hello, Morton,” replied Laramie. “I'd introduce you to my guest here, but I don't know his name.”
“Haw! Haw! Thet's all right. Few men out hyar go by their right names.”
“Say, Morton,” put in Duane, “Laramie gave me a hunch you'd be a good man to tie to. Now, I've a little money and before I lose it I'd like to invest it in stock.”
Morton smiled broadly.
“I'm on the square,” Duane said, bluntly. “If you fellows never size up your neighbors any better than you have sized me—well, you won't get any richer.”
It was enjoyment for Duane to make his remarks to these men pregnant with meaning. Morton showed his pleasure, his interest, but his faith held aloof.
“I've got some money. Will you let me in on some kind of deal? Will you start me up as a stockman with a little herd all my own?”