Carmichael maintained a discreet silence, and carefully avoided looking at the girls. “Wal, reckon we'll all call you Las Vegas, anyway,” continued the rancher. “Didn't you say my niece sent you to me for a job?” Whereupon Carmichael's easy manner vanished. “Now, boss, shore my memory's pore,” he said. “I only says--” “Don't tell me thet. My memory's not p-o-r-e,” replied Al, mimicking the drawl. “What you said was thet my niece would speak a good word for you.” Here Carmichael stole a timid glance at Bo, the result of which was to render him utterly crestfallen. Not improbably he had taken Bo's expression to mean something it did not, for Helen read it as a mingling of consternation and fright. Her eyes were big and blazing; a red spot was growing in each cheek as she gathered strength from his confusion. “Well, didn't you?” demanded Al. From the glance the old rancher shot from the cowboy to the others of his employ it seemed to Helen that they were having fun at Carmichael's expense. “Yes, sir, I did,” suddenly replied the cowboy. “A-huh! All right, here's my niece. Now see thet she speaks the good word.” Carmichael looked at Bo and Bo looked at him. Their glances were strange, wondering, and they grew shy. Bo dropped hers. The cowboy apparently forgot what had been demanded of him. Helen put a hand on the old rancher's arm. “Uncle, what happened was my fault,” she said. “The train stopped at Las Vegas. This young man saw us at the open window. He must have guessed we were lonely, homesick girls, getting lost in the West. For he spoke to us--nice and friendly. He knew of you. And he asked, in what I took for fun, if we thought you would give him a job. And I replied, just to tease Bo, that she would surely speak a good word for him.” “Haw! Haw! So thet's it,” replied Al, and he turned to Bo with merry eyes. “Wal, I kept this here Las Vegas Carmichael on his say-so. Come on with your good word, unless you want to see him lose his job.” Bo did not grasp her uncle's bantering, because she was seriously gazing at the cowboy. But she had grasped something. “He--he was the first person--out West--to speak kindly to us,” she said, facing her uncle. “Wal, thet's a pretty good word, but it ain't enough,” responded Al. Subdued laughter came from the listening group. Carmichael shifted from side to side. “He--he looks as if he might ride a horse well,” ventured Bo. “Best hossman I ever seen,” agreed Al, heartily. “And--and shoot?” added Bo, hopefully. “Bo, he packs thet gun low, like Jim Wilson an' all them Texas gun-fighters. Reckon thet ain't no good word.” “Then--I'll vouch for him,” said Bo, with finality. “Thet settles it.” Auchincloss turned to the cowboy. “Las Vegas, you're a stranger to us. But you're welcome to a place in the outfit an' I hope you won't never disappoint us.”