“Aw, I know. It’s all over the valley thet y’u’d ride in ter-day. Shore I wus the one thet tole yer dad an’ he give me a dollar.”
“Was he glad to hear it?” asked Jean, with a queer sensation in his throat.
“Wal, he plumb was.”
“An’ who told you I was goin’ to ride in to-day?”
“I heerd it at the store,” replied the lad, with an air of confidence. “Some sheepmen was talkin’ to Greaves. He’s the storekeeper. I was settin’ outside, but I heerd. A Mexican come down off the Rim ter-day an’ he fetched the news.” Here the lad looked furtively around, then whispered. “An’ thet greaser was sent by somebody. I never heerd no more, but them sheepmen looked pretty plumb sour. An’ one of them, comin’ out, give me a kick, darn him. It shore is the luckedest day fer us cowmen.”
“How’s that, Johnny?”
“Wal, that’s shore a big fight comin’ to Grass Valley. My dad says so an’ he rides fer yer dad. An’ if it comes now y’u’ll be heah.”
“Ahuh!” laughed Jean. “An’ what then, boy?”
The lad turned bright eyes upward. “Aw, now, yu’all cain’t come thet on me. Ain’t y’u an Injun, Jean Isbel? Ain’t y’u a hoss tracker thet rustlers cain’t fool? Ain’t y’u a plumb dead shot? Ain’t y’u wuss’ern a grizzly bear in a rough-an’-tumble? ... Now ain’t y’u, shore?”
Jean bade the flattering lad a rather sober good day and rode on his way. Manifestly a reputation somewhat difficult to live up to had preceded his entry into Grass Valley.