“Now, Tracy, don’t always be looking for trouble,” growled Higgins.  “Life out West ain’t no kindergarten.  We had to take our knocks.  Let the kid get his.  Just because his father is rich ain’t no reason why we should carry pillows around for him to fall on.”

This crude viewpoint, if not satisfying to the consciences of Higgins’ companions at least afforded relief, and they fell to wondering what Bob would say to them on his return—­for return they expected he would.

In the meantime, the object of their thoughts was hurrying as rapidly as he could over the rough roadbed.

The crisp, bracing air seemed a stimulant to his lungs which had never breathed any but the contaminated air of New York, and he gloried in the fact that he was at last in a land where success did not depend on influence and riches, but where a man “made good” or failed, according to whether he was made of the right stuff or not.

For a time, his mind dwelt upon the insinuations Higgins and the others had made against Ranchman Ford, but the same power that had urged him to seek a job of this man whispered to him that he had nothing to fear.  Dismissing all forebodings, therefore, Bob began to wonder if there could be any connection between Ford, the man with the scar and his father.  The subject suggested so many possibilities and was, altogether, so vague, that, healthy-minded boy as he was, he decided not to ponder over it longer.

“There’s no use building air castles,” he told himself.  “If Mr. Ford hires me and knows anything about father, I’ll find it out in due time.  There’s one good thing, if I do land the job, Red Top will be ten miles nearer—­and I can get away without exciting so much comment as from Fairfax.”

From time to time as Bob trudged along, he scanned the plains on both sides of the track.

Thanks to the milestones placed at the side of the roadbed he was able to keep count of the miles he walked.  Just after he had passed the eighth stone from Fairfax, Bob was electrified to see a herd of cattle in the distance.  Pausing, he gazed at them interestedly, noticing that they were moving steadily instead of grazing.  What this meant, he was at a loss to understand until of a sudden he saw three men on horseback emerge from the herd and, with arms waving, ride like mad to the head of the line and gradually change the direction of the cattle away from the track.

No need was there to tell him the riders were cowboys, and Bob thrilled with excitement as he watched their wonderful riding.  But he did not wait till they were out of sight.  Instead, he quickened his pace, murmuring: 

“The sooner I get to Mr. Ford’s, the sooner I’ll be a cowboy.”

The walk on the track was tiresome, however, unaccustomed to such rough traveling as he was, and it was with a sigh of relief that he finally caught sight of a group of buildings, one of which had a red-top roof.