I wondered how he looked now, and what he was doing, and how in blazes he managed to get away with fifty thousand a year.
And then one Sunday in June, while I was lying on my bunk, Tim pushed open the door and walked in.

I was young, but I'd seen a lot, and I knew the expression of his face.

So I laid low and said nothing.
In a minute the door opened again, and Buck Johnson himself came in.
"How do," said he; "I saw you ride up." "How do you do," replied Tim.
"I know all about you," said Buck, without any preliminaries; "your man, Case, has wrote me.

I don't know your reasons, and I don't want to know--it's none of my business--and I ain't goin' to tell you just what kind of a damn fool I think you are--that's none of my business, either.

But I want you to understand without question how you stand on the ranch." "Quite good, sir," said Tim very quietly.
"When you were out here before I was glad to have you here as a sort of guest.