Noting his son’s look of surprise he explained:
“The nearest town is called Trader’s Post, and it is about four hours’ ride on horseback. I got in touch with Tom at Trader’s Post by wire.”
“Whew,” whistled Mason, “I suppose I will have to make that trip on horseback. You know, Dad, I’m soft for that sort of thing, having had all my joy rides in a high powered car.”
“Very true,” admitted his father, “you have been living a life of ease and luxury, and your health is none too good. Now, I want you to get out of this rut. You will have a lot of hard work to do on the ranch, and the quicker you get used to it the better.”
“You’re right, Dad, but tell me more about this man Walters.”
“I knew him years ago,” his father began. “Tom made a deal in stocks here, married and took his wife to Nevada. He invested his money in land and a few cattle, and now owns one of the finest ranches in Nevada. I remember that they have a girl, but I can’t recall just how old she is; I should judge about sixteen or eighteen.”
“This promises to be interesting,” commented Mason. “Do they know I’m coming?”
The elder man smiled. “You don’t need to worry about that. I received a wire from Tom.
“I am sending two men with a shipment of cattle to the Post, and with orders to remain until your son arrives.’”
“Tom certainly showed speed,” said Mason, looking at his watch. “Great Scott!” he exclaimed, rising to his feet. “Four P. M. I must be going if I start in the morning as I have a lot of things to see to. Good-bye, Dad; see you at dinner.”
Hurrying from the office he started his car and drove rapidly home. Going at once to his mother’s room he told her how he had come to an agreement with his father.
“Yes, I know, Jack,” she said, “your father and I talked it over this morning. Perhaps it will be best for you, but it is hard to have our only boy leave us. Do be careful for my sake. Your sister has been in tears since I told her you are going away.”
“Don’t worry, mother. I’ll see Ethel and explain matters to her.”
In the summer garden he found his sister reading in a hammock.
“Oh, Jack,” she cried, “is it true you are going away?”
“Yes, sis, I leave in the morning.”
Ethel was two years younger than Jack and very fond of him.
“Listen, sis,” he said earnestly, “I want you to comfort mother while I am away, and I’ll make you a promise. After I have been on this ranch long enough to get the run of things I’ll see that you and mother pay me a visit. Won’t that be great?”
“Yes, I want to visit you,” she agreed, “but I will be so lonesome until you send for us.”
“Why, sis, you have your girl friends, and let’s see, who is that young fellow you have been going with quite steadily?” he asked, smiling down at her.
“Now, you are trying to tease me,” she answered, “that young fellow you speak of, his name is George Burk, and you know I don’t care for him.”
“Sis, you’re hard to suit, maybe you can find some one in the West to marry.”
“I don’t know, Jack, just now I’m not worrying about getting married. I hope you like it out there and make good. Mother told me that father wrote to the man who owns the ranch about your coming, and also wired him. Wish I were going with you now,” she added wistfully.
“Never mind, sis, it won’t be long before I’ll send for you and mother. Be a good girl now, and help me pack.”
Going into the house, they were soon busy packing and thinking of the future.
The next morning Mason bid his parents goodbye and started on his trip West.
After long and tiresome travel on hot and dusty trains Mason alighted at a small station on the Union & Pacific where he was to take the stage that met all trains for Trader’s Post. Walking around the small platform of the depot he spied a dilapidated stage and a scraggy looking pair of horses. The driver was busily engaged filling a black clay pipe while talking with the telegraph operator. “Starting soon?” queried Mason pleasantly. The driver turned and looking Mason over, drawled:
“Thought I was going back empty, train stopped to let off some mail, but I didn’t see you get off. Be you the man the Bar X boys are expecting?”
“Guess I am,” said Mason, smiling.
“The boys are at the Grand Hotel,” explained the driver. “Jump in, we’ll be there in about an hour.”
“It’s four miles to the Post,” he added.
It was seven A. M. and Mason was anxious to get started on the long ride to the ranch. The driver kept up a running fire of talk as the stage rattled over the rough road.
“Yep,” he was saying, “old man Walters sent two men with a shipment of cattle to the Post. They have been there two days now, and one of them is hitting up old John Barleycorn right hard.”
Having delivered this bit of news he started the team at a faster pace.
“What sort of men are they at the ranch?” queried Mason. “Does Walters allow them to drink?”
The driver shook his head.
“No, he don’t allow them to drink on the ranch, but the assistant foreman sent Scotty Campbell and Red Sullivan to meet you and Scotty had to celebrate, but a better pair of cow punchers never stepped in boots. Let me tell you one thing, young fellow.”
The driver leaned over confidentially.
“If those punchers take to you, you will have two good friends.”
They were now in sight of the town, and Mason looked it over with interest.
Trader’s Post boasted of one hotel and dance hall, a general store, and a few scattered houses. As they drew near the hotel they heard a succession of whoops that would have put an Indian to shame. Mason looked at the driver inquiringly.
“That’s Scotty,” he explained.
“Well, he’s got a good pair of lungs,” laughed Mason.
The driver tied his team and Mason followed him into the hotel. As they entered, two men at the bar turned and looked Mason over. One, a good-natured looking Irishman, seemed satisfied and asked: “Are you the man that’s going to Bar X ranch?”
“Yes,” he replied, offering his hand. “I’m Jack Mason.”
Red shook hands and roared:
“Scotty, shake hands with our new recruit.”
Scotty looked Mason over from head to foot.
“Glad to meet you, laddie,” he said slowly, as he lurched heavily against the bar. “Don’t mind me, I had to have a little fun, don’t come to the Post very often.”
Red was grinning from ear to ear.
“If you don’t get called down by Miss Josephine when we get back to the ranch, I’ll buy you the best horse on the range.”
Scotty turned and looked at Mason.
“Laddie, don’t pay any attention to Red, let’s all have a drink on me.”
“I’m not drinking, Scotty, but I’ll take a cigar with you.”
“Well, Jack, we start in half an hour,” announced Red. “I’ll strap your luggage on my horse and send the supply wagon after the rest of your stuff.”
Going