You'll do for me what you won't do for yourself, Ford--and if there's a yellow streak in you, I never got a glimpse of it; and the yellow will sure come to the surface of a man when he's bucking a proposition like you and me bucked for two months.

You didn't lay down on that job, and you were just a kid, you might say.

Gosh, Ford, I'd bank on you any old time--put you on your mettle, and I would! You can make good here--and damn it, you will!" "I wish I was as sure of that as you seem to be," Ford muttered uneasily, and turned away.

Mason's easy chuckle followed him, and Ford swung about and faced him again.
"I haven't made any cast-iron promise--" "Did I ask you to make any ?" Mason's voice sharpened.
"But--Lordy me, Ches! How do you know I--" "I know.

That's enough." "But--maybe I don't want the darned job.