ly, to Reedy's delight. He had
expected to have to work much harder on the old man.

The next morning after the interview with Jim Crill Bob was at the
hardware store assembling the implements he had bought, when a tall,
shambling hill billy sauntered up.

"Hello, Noah Ezekiel Foster," said Bob, without looking up.

"Hello," responded the hill billy. "Reckon you know a hoss at long
range."

"Reckon I do." Bob resumed his whistling.

"Don't also know somebody that wants a chauffeur for a tractor? Benson
sold out my job."

"No." Bob straightened up and looked at the lank fellow appraisingly.
"But I know a fellow who wants a chauffeur for a team of mules."

Noah Ezekiel shook his head. "Me and mules have parted ways a long
time ago. I prefer gasoline." Then in a moment: "Who is the fellow?"

Bob grinned and tapped himself. "I'm the man."

Noah Ezekiel shook his head again.

"You look too all-fired industrious; I'd rather work for a fellow that
lives at Los Angeles."

Bob laughed. "Just as you like."

But Noah Ezekiel ventured one more question:

"You workin' for Reedy Jenkins?"

"Not much!" Bob put emphasis in that.

"Where is your ranch?"

"On the road a couple of miles north of Chandler's."

The hill billy's forehead wrinkled and his eyes looked off into empty
space.

"I reckon I'll change my mind. I'll take the job. How much am I
gettin' a month?"

CHAPTER VII

Some men fail because they invest their money in bad business. More
fail because they invest themselves in sorry human material. They
trust their plans to people who cannot or will not carry them out.

Bob from his first day as an employer realized that to be able to plan
and work himself was only half of success. One must be able to pick
men who will carry out his plans, must invest his brains, his
generosity, his fair treatment, and his affections in human beings who
will return him loyalty for loyalty.

He had made no mistake in Noah Ezekiel Foster. Noah was a good cotton
planter; moreover, he knew a good deal about Chinese. Bob had employed
six Chinamen to help get the ground in shape and the cotton planted.

"Noah," Bob stopped beside the disk plow and its double team, "you
understand mules."

"I ought to." Noah rubbed his lean jaw. "I've been kicked by 'em
enough."

Bob smiled. Somehow Noah's look of drollery always put him in a good
humour. He noticed it also tickled the Chinamen, who thought "M