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The boy took his pistol with solemnity.” No,” he said. “Guess I can’t do that.” He fired, and the glass splintered into shapelessness. “Told you I couldn’t miss as close as you did,” said he.

“You are a darling,” said Mr. Vogel. “Gif me dat lofely weapon.”

A fortunate store of bottles lay, leaned, or stood about in the white snow of Nampa, and Mr. Vogel began at them.

“May I ask if anything is the matter?” inquired a mild voice from the stage.

“Stick that lily head in-doors,” shouted Vogel; and the face and eye-glasses withdrew again into the stage.” The school-teacher he will be beautifool virtuous company for you at Malheur Agency,” continued Vogel, shooting again; and presently the large old German destroyed a bottle with a crashing smack. “Ah!” said he, in unison with the smack. “Ah-ha! No von shall say der old Max lose his gr-rip. I shoot it efry time now, but the train she whistle. I hear her.”

The boy affected to listen earnestly.

“Bah! I tell you I hear de whistle coming.”

“Did you say there was a whistle?” ventured the occupant of the stage. The snow shone white on his glasses as he peered out.

“Nobody whistle for you,” returned the robust Vogel. “You listen to me,” he continued to the boy. “You are offle yoong. But I watch you plenty this long time. I see you work mit my stock on the Owyhee and the Malheur; I see you mit my oder men. My men they say always more and more, ‘Yoong Drake he is a goot one,’ und I think you are a goot one mine own self. I am the biggest cattle man on the Pacific slope, und I am also an old devil. I have think a lot, und I like you.”

“I’m obliged to you, sir.”

“Shut oop. I like you, und therefore I make you my new sooperintendent at my Malheur Agency r-ranch, mit a bigger salary as you don’t get before. If you are a sookcess, I r-raise you some more.”

“I am satisfied now, sir.”

“Bah! Never do you tell any goot business man you are satisfied mit vat he gif you, for eider he don’t believe you or else he think you are a fool. Und eider ways you go down in his estimation. You make those men at Malheur Agency behave themselves und I r-raise you. Only I do vish, I do certainly vish you had some beard on that yoong chin.”

The boy glanced at his pistol.

“No, no, no, my son,” said the sharp old German. “I don’t want gunpowder in dis affair. You must act kviet und decisif und keep your liddle shirt on. What you accomplish shootin’? You kill somebody, und then, pop! somebody kills you. What goot is all that nonsense to me?”

“It would annoy me some, too,” retorted the boy, eyeing the capitalist. “Don’t leave me out of the proposition.”

“Broposition! Broposition! Now you get hot mit old Max for nothing.”

“If you didn’t contemplate trouble,” pursued the boy, “what was your point just now in sampling my marksmanship?” He kicked some snow in the direction of the shattered bottle. “It’s understood no whiskey comes on that ranch. But if no gunpowder goes along with me, either, let’s call the deal off. Buy some other fool.”

“You haf not understand, my boy. Und you get very hot because I happen to make that liddle joke about somebody killing you. Was you thinking maybe old Max not care what happen to you?”

A moment of silence passed before the answer came: “Suppose we talk business?”

“Very well, very well. Only notice this thing. When oder peoples talk oop to me like you haf done many times, it is not they who does the getting hot. It is me–old Max. Und when old Max gets hot he slings them out of his road anywheres. Some haf been very sorry they get so slung. You invite me to buy some oder fool? Oh, my boy, I will buy no oder fool except you, for that was just like me when I was yoong Max!” Again the ruddy and grizzled magnate put his hand on the shoulder of the boy, who stood looking away at the bottles, at the railroad track, at anything save his employer.