"I'll talk with you again this
evenin'."
As Grayson and his employer quitted the office and walked
together toward the corrals the latter's brow was corrugated
by thought and his facial expression that of one who labors to
fasten upon a baffling and illusive recollection.
"It beats all, Grayson," he said presently; "but I am sure
that I have known this new bookkeeper of yours before. The
moment he came out of that room dressed like a human being
I knew that I had known him; but for the life of me I can't
place him. I should be willing to wager considerable, however,
that his name is not Bridge."
"S'pect you're right," assented Grayson. "He's probably one
o' them eastern dude bank clerks what's gone wrong and
come down here to hide. Mighty fine place to hide jest now,
too.
"And say, speakin' of banks," he went on, "what'll I do
'bout sendin' over to Cuivaca fer the pay tomorrow. Next
day's pay day. I don't like to send this here bum, I can't trust
a greaser no better, an' I can't spare none of my white men
thet I ken trust."
"Send him with a couple of the most trustworthy Mexicans
you have," suggested the boss.
"There ain't no sich critter," replied Grayson; "but I guess
that's the best I ken do.
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