He was going to see what there was in me, he said.

He would pay my bills, and, as a birthday gift, he would present me with a through ticket to Osage, in Montana--where he owned a ranch called the Bay State--and a stock-saddle, spurs, chaps, and a hundred dollars.

After that I must work out my own salvation--or the other thing.

If I wanted more money inside a year or two, I would have to work for it just as if I were an orphan without a dad who writes checks on demand.

He said that there was always something to do on the Bay State Ranch--which is one of dad's places.