"I reckon so, though it's more than seven years since I came East."
"Aren't you ever going back there?" inquired Bob, in a tone which said plainly that it was beyond his understanding how a man could give up life on a ranch and settle down to the very ordinary, prosaic life of the East.
For a moment the man looked at Bob searchingly, and then replied:
"I reckon that it's better for my health here in the East."
But the significance of this remark was lost on Bob. For a few minutes he was silent, the expression on his face, however, indicating that he was thinking earnestly, and at last the cause of his deliberation was explained in his question:
"Do you think there are any Indians around Fairfax now?"
"Not the kind there was in the early days when I was out there. The government has tried to make them like white people, and now the Injuns that you would find are either lazy, or they have deteriorated into half-breeds. Once in a while some of the bucks go on a rampage, but not very often."
"I think I'll go to Fairfax," announced Bob after another period of deliberation. "You don't know any one out there with whom you think I could get in to work, do you?"
