SOME BOOKKEEPING

While it is possible to approach the foreman of a cattle outfit on foot
and apply for work, it is--as a certain Ulysses of the outlands once
said--not considered good form in the best families in Arizona. Pete
was only too keenly conscious of this. There is a prestige recognized
by both employer and tentative employee in riding in, swinging to the
ground in that deliberate and easy fashion of the Western rider, and
sauntering up as though on a friendly visit wherein the weather and
grazing furnish themes for introduction, discussion, and the eventual
wedge that may open up the way to employment. The foreman knows by the
way you sit your horse, dismount, and generally handle yourself, just
where you stand in the scale of ability. He does not need to be told.
Nor does he care what you have been. Your saddle-tree is much more
significant than your family tree. Still, if you have graduated in
some Far Eastern riding academy, and are, perchance, ambitious to learn
the gentle art of roping, riding them as they come, and incidentally
preserving your anatomy as an undislocated whole, it is not a bad idea
to approach the foreman on foot and clothed in unpretentious garb.
For, as this same Ulysses of the outlands said:

"Rub grease on your chaps and look wise if you will,
But the odor of tan-bark will cling round you still."

This information alone is worth considerably more than twenty cents.

Young Pete, who had not slept much, arose and prepared breakfast,
making the coffee extra strong. Montoya liked strong coffee. After
breakfast Pete made a diagonal approach to the subject of leaving.