The cattleman was a shrewd judge of men. His action now was not based
solely upon humanitarian motives. Here was a keen man, quick-witted,
steady, and wholly to be trusted, one certain to push himself to the
front. It was good business to make it worth his while to stick to
Crawford's enterprises. He said as much to Dave bluntly.

"And you ain't in for any easy time either," he added. "We've got oil.
We're flooded with it, so I hear. Seve-re-al thousand dollars' worth a
day is runnin' off and seepin' into the desert. Bob Hart and Jed Burns
have got the job of puttin' the lid on the pot, but when they do that
you've got a bigger job. Looks bigger to me, anyhow. You've got to get
rid of that oil--find a market for it, sell it, ship it away to make room
for more. Get busy, son." Crawford waved his hand after the manner of one
who has shifted a responsibility and does not expect to worry about it.
"Moreover an' likewise, we're shy of money to keep operatin' until we can
sell the stuff. You'll have to raise scads of mazuma, son. In this oil
game dollars sure have got wings. No matter how tight yore pockets are
buttoned, they fly right out."

"I doubt whether you've chosen the right man," the ex-cowpuncher said,
smiling faintly. "The most I ever borrowed in my life was twenty-five
dollars."

"You borrow twenty-five thousand the same way, only it's easier if the
luck's breakin' right," the cattleman assured him cheerfully. "The
easiest thing in the world to get hold of is money--when you've already
got lots of it."

"The trouble is we haven't."

"Well, you'll have to learn to look like you knew where it grew on
bushes," Emerson told him, grinning.

"I can see you've chosen me for a nice lazy job."

"Anything but that, son. You don't want to make any mistake about this
thing. Brad Steelman's goin' to fight like a son-of-a-gun. He'll strike
at our credit and at our market and at our means of transportation. He'll
fight twenty-four hours of the day, and he's the slickest, crookedest
gray wolf that ever skulked over the range."

The foreman of the D Bar Lazy R came in after supper for a conference
with his boss. He and Crawford got their heads together in the
sitting-room and the young people gravitated out to the porch. Joyce
pressed Dave into service to help her water the roses, and Keith hung
around in order to be near Dave. Occasionally he asked questions
irrelevant to the conversation. These were embarrassing or