There's Post, in
from the woods. He's woods foreman. I expect I'll have lively times with
Post at first, getting him broken into new ways. But he's a good sort,
too."
"Everybody's a good sort to-day, aren't they, son?" smiled Orde.
Welton met them, and expressed his satisfaction over the way everything
had turned out.
"I'm going duck shooting for fair," said he, "and I'm going fishing at
Catalina. Out here," he explained to Orde, "you sit in nice warm sun and
let the ducks insult you into shooting at 'em! No
freeze-your-fingers-and-break-the-ice early mornings! I'm willing to let
the kid go it! He can't bust me in two years, anyway."
Later, when the two were alone together, he clapped Bob on the back and
wished him success.
"I'm too old at the game to believe much in new methods to what I've
been brought up to, Bob," said he; "but I believe in you. If anybody can
do it, you can; and I'd be tickled to see you win out. Things change;
and a man is foolish to act as though they didn't. He's just got to keep
playing along according to the rules of the game. And they keep
changing, too.
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