en warn him about the dog," chided another.

At this reminder of the savage wolfhound that John Ford kept to guard
his cabin, the idlers grew serious and exchanged uneasy glances.

"Oh, well! Ford'll probably see the boy so long as he comes from the
direction of the railroad. Yellow Tom told me he sits by the hour
looking toward the track--and he'll call off the brute."

"Providing the beast don't chew the boy up before John sees him,"
interposed another.

"Now, Tracy, don't always be looking for trouble," growled Higgins.
"Life out West ain't no kindergarten. We had to take our knocks. Let the
kid get his. Just because his father is rich ain't no reason why we
should carry pillows around for him to fall on."

This crude viewpoint, if not satisfying to the consciences of Higgins'
companions at least afforded relief, and they fell to wondering what Bob
would say to them on his return--for return they expected he would.

In the meantime, the object of their thoughts was hurrying as rapidly as
he could over the rough roadbed.

The crisp, bracing air seemed a stimulant to his lungs which had never
breathed any but the contaminated air of New York, and he gloried in the
fact that he was at last in a land where success did not depend on
influence and riches, but where a man "made good" or failed, according
to whether he was made of the right stuff or not.

For a time, his mind dwelt upon the insinuations Higgins and the others
had made against Ranchman Ford, but the same power that had urged him
to seek a job of this man whispered to him that he had nothing to fear.
Dismissing all forebodings, therefore, Bob began to wonder if there
could be any connection between Ford, the man with the scar and his
father. The subject suggested so many possibilities and was, altogether,
so vague, that, healthy-minded boy as he was, he decided not to ponder
over it longer.

"There's no use building air castles," he told himself. "If Mr. Ford
hires me and knows anything about father, I'll find it out in due time.
There's one good thing, if I do land the job, Red Top will be ten miles
nearer--and I can get away without exciting so much comment as from
Fairfax."

From time to time as Bob trudged along, he scanned the plains on both
sides of the track.

Thanks to the milestones placed at the side of the roadbed he was able
to keep count of the miles he walked. Just after he had passed the
eighth stone from Fairfax, Bob was electrifie