anch it, eh? You'll find it pretty tough,"
commented Thomas.

"That's what I'm here for," answered the boy, smiling. "I guess I can
stand it."

"Mebbe you can and mebbe you can't," observed the surly-looking man, who
had edged his way to where the agent and Bob were talking and had heard
the boy's last remark.

"It all depends on whose ranch you strike. Most cowpunchers don't cotton
to tenderfeet. The last one that hit Fairfax stayed just three days and
was mighty glad to light out on a freight train."

"Now, Higgins, don't try to scare Mr. Nichols," exclaimed Thomas. "His
father's vice-president of the Great Western."

"So you are Si Nichols' son, eh?" inquired Higgins.

"I thought out-West people weren't supposed to ask questions," returned
Bob.

"Good boy! That's one on you, Higgins!" chuckled the other loungers
gleefully, and the station agent added: "Now leave the boy alone. He's
my guest while he's in Fairfax and any trick played on him I shall
consider a personal affront to myself."

As the agent uttered these words, he drew himself to his full height and
Bob could see that he was a splendid specimen of manhood. And that the
others had a wholesome respect for his prowess was evident in the more
deferential manner which they adopted toward Bob.

"Oh, if he's _your_ special friend, all right," growled Higgins, but he
added under his breath, "I'll have some fun with you, Mr. Tenderfoot,
see if I don't."

As he walked with the agent to where his trunk lay beside the track, Bob
could not but wonder what his reception would have been had he not made
the chance acquaintance of such powerful friends, and he thanked his
good fortune that he had done so, for he felt out of place and very
lonely in a strange country and among such rough-mannered men.

Divining what was passing through the boy's mind from the seriousness of
his face, Thomas said:

"You mustn't take to heart what these men out here say to you, Mr.
Nichols. Wresting a livelihood from the prairies has accustomed them to
giving and receiving hard knocks, and they don't stop to think how what
they say will sound. Just take it good-naturedly and give them back
better than they send--if you can."

"I'll try," said the boy. "But please don't call me Mr. Nichols. Just
Bob. I like it better."

At this request, Bob rose a hundred per cent. in the estimation of the
agent.

"All right. But if I do, you must call me Hal," he replied.

When they had c