Part 6 (1/2)

”Because I say so!”

”He isn't your horse.”

”That may be, but I'm not going to see you abuse him that way. You quit, or I'll give you the worst licking you ever had.”

”You will; eh? Mr. n.o.body!” sneered Len. ”You will?”

”Yes, I will!” and Dave strode forward with such a fierce look on his face that Len hastily left off beating his poor steed and fled.

”Oh! I'll fix you yet!” Len cried, when, at a safe distance, he paused to turn and shake his fist at Dave.

”The mean hound!” muttered Dave.

It was about a week after this that Dave rode over to a small corral where some choice cattle were quartered. These had been cut out and herded by themselves, to get ready for a special s.h.i.+pment. Dave wanted to see if the fence and gate were sufficiently strong.

He rode around the corral, and was soon satisfied that all was right. He was riding away over the plain, glad to be able to report to Mr. Carson that the cattle were in fine shape for s.h.i.+pment, when a sudden noise caused him to turn around.

To Dave's surprise he saw the cattle, in a small stampede, rus.h.i.+ng from the corral, straight toward him in an overwhelming ma.s.s.

Dave hesitated but a moment, and then clapping spurs to his horse he wheeled and rode straight at the oncoming steers, shouting and waving his hat in one hand, while with the other he fired shot after shot from his big revolver.

CHAPTER V

TREACHERY

”Don't fall now, Crow! Don't you dare to stumble!” breathed Dave, leaning over to speak into the very ear of his coal-black steed. ”Don't step in any holes and throw me. For if you do, it's all up with both of us!”

Yet, knowing that danger as he did, Dave never for an instant faltered. He was going to stop that stampede and drive back the valuable cattle before they could stray and get far out on the range or among the wild hills where they would lose much of their prime condition that would insure a good price. Dave was going to stop that stampede though he took his life in his hands to do it.

And for what? he might have reflected. To save the property of a man who was no relation to him.

Yet never for an instant did Dave ask this question of himself. It never entered his mind. For the time being he had forgotten that Mr. Carson was not his father.

”I'm going to save those cattle!” Dave murmured over and over again, as he neared the frightened, tumultuous ma.s.s of steers. ”But don't you stumble with me, Crow!”

For to stumble meant, very likely, the death of horse and rider. Cattle on the range are used to seeing mounted men--in fact they seldom see them otherwise, and for a mounted cowpuncher it is perfectly safe to ride in front of even a wildly running ma.s.s of steers.

But once let a man be on foot, while the cattle do not actually attack him, they seem to lose all fear of him, and may trample ruthlessly over him. Then is when a cowpuncher's life depends on his steed. The cattle seem to regard horse and man as one and as a superior being to whom they must give place. That is why Dave did not want his horse to stumble and throw him. For his life, and that of his fine steed, Crow, would not have lasted a minute under the pounding rush of those sharp hoofs.

While thus riding wildly at the rus.h.i.+ng steers Dave had many thoughts in his mind.

”How did they get out?” he mused. ”The gate and fastenings were all right five minutes ago. And I wonder if I can turn them and drive them back alone? I've got to, that's all, for I don't see any help coming.”

Dave rose in his stirrups and gave a quick frightened, tumultuous ma.s.s of steers. ”But don't glance ahead of him and over the backs of the steers.

He saw no one in sight, and settling in the saddle again, prepared for the work ahead of him.

”Got to have some more shots, anyhow,” Dave reasoned. His revolver was empty.