“He had it coming,” Robin defended. “Anyway, I didn’t jump him. I just told him where he got off.” “Well, I guess he got off all right,” Sutherland grumbled. “Now what’s the root of this trouble between you and Mark Steele? Strikes me it’s more than a girl. Twice you’ve called him a thief. I got a right to know.” “You have,” Robin admitted frankly. “But I’m not goin’ to tell you, right now. You’d have only my bare word. If I had a round-up crew to myself for a couple of months I might be able to _show_ you.” “Is it that serious?” Sutherland asked slowly. Robin looked at him keenly. He couldn’t quite make out this heavy-faced man whose brain was of a vastly different quality from his flesh-burdened body or he would never have become a power in the Bear Paws. Sutherland wasn’t stupid. Neither was Robin. Only Robin didn’t want to talk, now that he had a hearer--where six months earlier he would have poured out his tale. “Do you know that Steele has bought in with Dan Mayne?” he asked Sutherland. Sutherland nodded. His eyes were on Robin narrowly. “This got something to do with Bar M Bar stock, this trouble between you two?” “Partly.” “You don’t seem to want to talk.” “I won’t,” Robin said bluntly. “If I had a chance I might show you.” “All right, you can show me. I’m from Missouri.” “How?” Robin inquired. “Well,” Sutherland drawled. “You can go to work for the Block S for one thing. You said nobody loved you and you were out of a job. I’ll give you a job.” “I couldn’t work for the Block S, as things stand,” Robin said impatiently. “You know that.” “Don’t see why. You’re a cow-puncher. I can use you.” “See here,” Robin told him bluntly. “I’ve ideas of my own. The only way I’d ever work for the Block S would be to run it.” “All right,” Sutherland said abruptly. “I’ll give you a whirl at being a range boss. Mark Steele has quit me. Think you can fill his boots? It’ll take a man.” “I fill my own boots,” Robin answered slowly. “That’s good enough.” A slow smile spread over Sutherland’s broad face. “You’ll be the youngest wagon boss in Montana, I reckon,” he drawled. Robin didn’t answer. But his heart leaped within him. To attain the seat of the mighty at a single bound! It seemed incredible. He had made a reckless statement bear rich fruit. When he told Sutherland that the only way he would work for the Block S would be to run it he had been sincere enough; but that was only an oblique way of stating that he didn’t want to be a Block S rider as matters stood. This was a horse of a different color. When it came to that he was a cowman. Responsibility had no terrors for him. If he could handle men? Well, why not? Power is a sweet morsel for any man to set his teeth in. Robin had confidence without vain conceit. He knew himself equal to the job. Sutherland mused, pulling at his walrus mustache, his rubicund face glowing behind the smoke cloud of his cigar.