"
David preserved a stony silence--the only attitude possible, he had
decided, in the face of his patent dereliction.
"Will you try me on the Beaulings stage?" he repeated. "I've been round
horses all my life; and I can hold a gun straighter than Allen."
Priest shook his head negatively.
"You are too light--too young," he explained; "you have to be above a
certain age for the responsibility of the mail. There are some rough
customers to handle. If you only had five years more now--We are having
a hard time finding a suitable man. A damned shame about Allen!
Splendid man!"
"Can't you give it to me for a week," David persisted, "and see how I
do?"
They would have awarded him the position immediately, he felt, if he
had properly attended to the Hatburns. He wanted desperately to explain
his failure to Priest, but a dogged pride prevented. The storekeeper
was tapping on an open ledger with a pen, gazing doubtfully at David.
"You couldn't be worse than the drunken object we have now," he
admitted. "You couldn't hold the job permanent yet, but I might let you
drive extra--a day or so--till we find a man. I'd like to do what I
could for Mrs. Kinemon. Your father was a good man, a good customer....
Come and see me again--say, day after to-morrow."
This half promise partly rehabilitated his fallen pride. There was no
sign in the men he passed that they held him in contempt for neglecting
to kill the Hatburns; and his mother wisely avoided the subject.
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