“You are a fine one to come to a ranch--expecting to run it. I ought to chase you out, and I would if I didn’t need you so badly. The rubber camp will soon bring out the kind of stuff you’re made of. But just remember this; we won’t tolerate any smart ideas or new notions. You don’t know anything and you’ll do exactly as you are told. You are not Mr. Jones’ son so long as you stay around here. Your official name is Nobody, and that’s what I’ll call you. You are right down on the bottom and you’ll stick there, too, if I am any judge of character. Now go, and tell Carlos where you hid your pack, so he can send for it. He’ll fix you up with what you need, and remember, he’s your boss. Do whatever he says and if he thinks you worth the trouble, he’ll take you up-river. Get out just as fast as you can and don’t bother me again.” David was too bewildered to resent anything that had been said to him. It had all come like a thunderbolt, suddenly, unexpected and terrible. He merely stammered “Yes, Sir,” and hastily departed. Outside the door he drew a deep breath of relief. What a frightful character Rice was! He had not the slightest regard for life. No wonder they called him the viper, but David could not think of any creature that was so repulsive to him as this man, unless possibly it was a hyena. How could his father have sent him to such a place? Then the truth occurred to him. He had not been sent. He had insisted on having his way. If he had known the truth; if only he had listened to the advice of others who knew the world better than he, and----. But, no! He dared not think such thoughts. He had gone this far and there must be no quitting. He would see the thing through. Somehow, some way, matters would straighten themselves out and if they didn’t he would force them to. Seeing the foreman near one of the larger huts, David went toward him unaware that the eyes of the beast were following his every movement. The look of cruelty had gone from the eyes and a smile was on his face--a smile partly of amusement and partly of pity, as he looked at the forlorn figure approaching the burly Don Carlos. “Hm!” he chuckled. “He’s showing the right stuff, so far. Getting here the way he did wasn’t easy. I didn’t think he could do it. I can’t help but admire him and if he don’t make good, I’ll be disappointed.” “Mr. Rice sent me to you,” David addressed the foreman. “I guess I am to go with your outfit.” “What, you?” sarcastically. “You wouldn’t be good for anything except to cook for the _mozos_ or some such work.” “All right. You are the boss.” Evidently the foreman was not prepared for such a reply and for a moment he was at a loss as to what to say. “Very well,” he said finally. “If that is the way you feel about it, I guess we can use you. But I warn you in advance that you’ll have a hard time of it. You’ll be the only white man; the others are Indians and Mozos. They have to work hard and put up with anything, and so will you.”