Bob felt himself suddenly and ruthlessly excluded from the
ranks of those worthy of Baker's respect. A hard quality of character,
hitherto unsuspected, stared from the fat young man's impudent blue
eyes. Baker was perfectly polite, and suitably jocular; but he had not
much time for Bob; and soon plunged into a deep discussion with Welton
from which Bob was unmistakably excluded.
On one occasion, too, he encountered Oldham riding down the trail from
headquarters. The older man had nodded to him curtly. His eyes had
gleamed through his glasses with an ill-concealed and frosty amusement,
and his thin lips had straightened to a perceptible sneer. All at once
Bob divined an enemy. He could not account for this, as he had never
dealt with the man; and the accident of his discovering the gasoline
pump on the Lucky Land Company's creeks could hardly be supposed to
account for quite so malignant a triumph. Next time Bob saw Welton, he
asked his old employer about it.
"What have I ever done to Oldham?" he inquired. "Do you know?"
"Oldham?" repeated Welton.
"Baker's land agent."
"Oh, yes.
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