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Without the Mistertons you would never have sold this ranch to Thorpe. One moment. It is in your power to do these people a service, and it will cost you nothing. Jim Misterton was a clerk in London, and a capable one, but his health broke down. He came out here to the brush-hills. He got back his health, but he's lost everything else. Give him a place in this bank.
It is fair to add that he helped us on the range, and exhibited aptitude in the handling of cattle and horses. Meanwhile, his advent had made an enormous difference to the Mistertons. Jim fetched a hired girl from town, and Angela was relieved, during a scorching summer, of a housewife's most intolerable duties.
Misterton," I said slowly, "you are in a tight place, and I won't insult your intelligence by calling it by a prettier name; but you can pull yourself and Jim out of it, and I believe you will." "Thanks," she said soberly. For some weeks after this we saw little of the Mistertons. Then Jim rode down to the ranch with an exciting piece of news. "I've got a pup coming out."
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