And since he could not do anything about it while he rode and planned and gave orders at the Double Cross, he swallowed his breakfast rather hurriedly and went out to find Jim Felton.
"Say, Jim," he began, when he ran that individual to earth in the stable, where, with a pair of sheep shears, he was roaching the mane of a shaggy old cow pony to please Buddy, who wanted to make him look like a circus horse, even if there was no hope of his ever acting like one.
"I'm going to hand you the lines and let you drive, for a few days.

I've got to scout around on business of my own, and I don't know just how long it's going to take me.

I'm going right away--to-day." "Yeah ?" Jim poised the shears in air and regarded him quizzically over the pony's neck.

"Going to pass me foreman's privilege--to hire and fire ?" he grinned.

"Because I may as well tell you that if you do, Dick won't be far behind you on the trail." "Oh, darn Dick.