He paused, fished in his pocket, and, producing a plug, carefully bit off one corner. Stratton watched him impatiently, a faint flush staining his clear, curiously white skin.
"Well?" he prodded presently. "What happened then? From what I know of Joe, I'll say he made good all right."
"Sure he did." Pop spoke with emphasis, though somewhat thickly. "There ain't nobody can tell Joe Bloss much about cattle. He whirled in right capable and got things runnin' good. For a while he was so danged busy he'd hardly ever get to town, but come winter the work eased up an' I used to see him right frequent. He'd set there alongside the stove evenings an' tell me what he was doin', or how he'd jest had a letter from Stratton, who was by now in France, an' all the rest of it. Wal, to make a long story short, a year last month the