Part 3 (2/2)

”You do when it concerns me,” and Dave put his horse directly across the trail, which, at this point narrowed and ran between two low ranges of hills. ”You said something about me just now--you called me a nameless, picked-up n.o.body!”

Dave could not help wincing as he repeated the slur.

”Well, what if I did?” demanded the bully.

”I want to know what you mean. You insinuated that Mr. Carson was not my father.”

”He isn't!”

”Why do you say that, and how do you know?” Dave asked. In spite of his dislike of Len, and the knowledge that the bully was not noted for truth-telling, Dave could not repress a cold chill of fear that seemed to clutch his heart.

”I say that because it's so, and how I know it is none of your affair,”

retorted Len.

”Oh yes, it is my affair, too!” Dave exclaimed. He was fast regaining control of himself. ”It is very much my affair. I demand an explanation.

How do you know Mr. Carson isn't my father?”

”Well, I know all right. He picked you up somewhere. He doesn't know what your name is himself. He just let you use his, and he called you Dave.

You're a n.o.body I tell you!”

Dave spurred his horse until it was close beside that of Len's. Then leaning over in the saddle, until his face was very near to that of the bully's, and with blazing eyes looking directly into the shrinking ones of the other rancher's son, Dave said slowly, but with great emphasis:

”Who--told--you?”

There was menace in his tone and att.i.tude, and Len shrank back.

”Oh, don't be afraid!” Dave laughed mirthlessly. ”I'm not going to strike you--not now.”

”You--you'd better not,” Len muttered.

”I want you first to answer my questions,” Dave went on. ”After that I'll see what happens. It's according to how much truth there is in what you have said.”

”Oh, it's true all right,” sneered the bully.

”Then I demand to know who told you!”

Dave's hand shot out and grasped the bridle of the other's horse, and Len's plan of flight was frustrated.

”Let me go!” he whiningly demanded.

”Not until you tell me who said I am a n.o.body--that Mr. Carson is not my father,” Dave said, firmly.

”I--I----” began the shrinking Len, when the sound of another horseman approaching caused both lads to turn slightly in their saddles. Dave half expected to see Pocus Pete, but he beheld the not very edifying countenance of Whitey Wa.s.son, a tow-headed cowpuncher belonging to the Centre O outfit. Whitey and Len were reported to be cronies, and companions in more than one not altogether pleasant incident.

”Oh, here you are; eh; Len?” began Whitey. ”And I see you've got the strays.”

<script>