“Yes, sir,” he continued. “You’ll be the youngest wagon boss in Montana. I’m kinda disappointed in Mark. He was a slashin’ good cowman. Maybe gettin’ some money left him has spoiled him. He’s quit. Least that’s how I take it. He drew all the money he had comin’, put Jack Boyd in charge of the outfit, and got on the train this afternoon. So you go out an’ take charge. The wagons’ll be camped by the ranch. I’ll give you a note to Jack.” “All right,” Robin said quietly. “Now look,” Sutherland continued. “I don’t want you to take up with the idea you’ve scared Mark Steele outa the country, because that’d be a bad mistake. If he didn’t have it out with you right then and there he had his own reasons besides bein’ afraid to take a chance. Mark’s got a money interest on this range now. He’ll be back. I’d be watchful,” Sutherland said very slowly, “if I was you.” Robin had no mind to contradict that. He merely nodded. “I don’t want to crowd you,” the old man went on in the kindliest tone Robin had ever heard him use. “I ain’t got to be near sixty and own thirty thousand cattle by goin’ through the world blind, deaf and dumb. Maybe a man here and there fools me for awhile. See you don’t. If I trust a man and he knifes me, I don’t forget. You say you can show me somethin’ if you have a round-up crew to work with. Well, you got it. And I’m from Missouri. I’m waitin’ to be shown.” “I don’t want to talk big,” Robin murmured. “I’m kinda dizzy right now. But when I spread my hand on the table I think you’ll say it’s good.” On a ridge overlooking the home ranch on Little Eagle, Robin drew rein for a look. The painted roofs of barn and out buildings and rambling house glowed in the sun. Windows flashed like beacons. The willows fringing creek and irrigating ditch were one shade of green, the wide meadows another, the pines that clothed the hills above still a darker hue. And there were the white tents of the round-up glistening against the sward, the scattered grazing horses. He could hear far off the sweet tinkle of bells. His outfit! The youngest range boss in Montana. Twenty riders, thirty thousand cattle, a thousand square miles of range under his hand! Robin could have whooped. Yet there was a sobering effect in the magnitude of his task. It wasn’t simple. There were added complications no one knew but himself, himself and Mark Steele and Tommy Thatcher. Perhaps Adam Sutherland shrewdly guessed that where so much smoke arose there must be fire.