It was quite time, Reid
argued, for Nick to cease his personal activities, and to trust the
actual work of branding to some confederate whose movements would not be
so closely questioned. In short, Reid had been expecting some stranger
to seek a job with some of the ranches that were in a position to
contribute to the Tailholt Mountain outfit, and, for his part, he would
await developments before becoming too enthusiastic over Honorable
Patches.
All of which the good Dean found very hard to answer.
"But look here, Jim," he protested, "don't you go makin' it unpleasant
for the boy. Whatever you think, you don't know any more than the rest
of us. If we're guessin' on one side, you're guessin' on the other. I
admit that what you say sounds reasonable; but, hang it, I like Patches.
As for his name--well--we didn't use to go so much on names, in this
country, you know. The boy may have some good reason for not talkin'
about himself. Just give him a square chance; don't put no burrs under
his saddle blanket--that's all I'm askin'."
Jim laughed. The speech was so characteristic of the Dean, and Jim Reid
loved his old friend and neighbor, as all men did, for being, as was
commonly said, "so easy.
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