'Nineteen, sir.'

'Oh my, that is offle young for the job I gif you. Some of dose man you go to boss might be your father. Und how much do you weigh?'

'About a hundred and thirty.'

'Too light, too light. Und I haf keep my eye on you in Boise. You are not so goot a boy as you might be.'

'Well, sir, I guess not.'

'But you was not so bad a boy as you might be, neider. You don't lie about it. Now it must be farewell to all that foolishness. Haf you understand? You go to set an example where one is needed very bad. If those men see you drink a liddle, they drink a big lot. You forbid them, they laugh at you. You must not allow one drop of whiskey at the whole place. Haf you well understand?'

'Yes, sir. Me and whiskey are not necessary to each other's happiness.'

'It is not you, it is them. How are you mit your gun?'

Vogel took the boy's pistol from its holster and aimed at an empty bottle which was sticking in the thin Deceiver snow. 'Can you do this?' he said, carelessly, and fired. The snow struck the bottle, but the unharming bullet was buried half an inch to the left.

The boy took his pistol with solemnity. 'No,' he said. 'Guess I can't do that.' He fired, and the glass splintered into shapelessness. 'Told you I couldn't miss as close as you did,' said he.

'You are a darling,' said Mr. Vogel. 'Gif me dat lofely weapon.'

A fortunate store of bottles lay, leaned, or stood about in the white snow of Nampa, and Mr. Vogel began at them.

'May I ask if anything is the matter?' inquired a mild voice from the stage.

'Stick that lily head in-doors,' shouted Vogel; and the face and eye-glasses withdrew again into the stage. 'The school-teacher he will be beautifool virtuous company for you at Malheur Agency,' continued Vogel, shooting again; and presently the large old German destroyed a bottle with a crashing smack. 'Ah!' said he, in unison with the smack. 'Ah-ha! No von shall say der old Max lose his gr-rip. I shoot it efry time now, but the train she whistle. I hear her.'

The boy affected to listen earnestly.

'Bah! I tell you I hear de whistle coming.'

'Did you say there was a whistle?' ventured the occupant of the stage. The snow shone white on his glasses as he peered out.

'Nobody whistle for you,' returned the robust Vogel. 'You listen to me,' he continued to the boy. 'You are offle yoong. But I watch you plenty this long time. I see you work mit my stock on the Owyhee and the Malheur; I see you mit my oder men. My men they say always more and more, 'Yoong Drake he is a goot one,' und I think you are a goot one mine own self. I am the biggest cattle man on the Pacific slope, und I am also an old devil. I have think a lot, und I like you.'

'I'm obliged to you, sir.'

'Shut oop. I like you, und therefore I make you my new sooperintendent at my Malheur Agency r-ranch, mit a bigger salary as you don't get before. If you are a sookcess, I r-raise you some more.'

'I am satisfied now, sir.'

'Bah! Never do you tell any goot business man you are satisfied mit vat he gif you, for eider he don't believe you or else he think you are a fool. Und eider ways you go down in his estimation. You make those men at Malheur Agency behave themselves und I r-raise you. Only I do vish, I do certainly vish you had some beard on that yoong chin.'

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