Part 7 (1/2)
”How'd you happen to know about it?”
”I didn't. I just come over here on an errand. Your dad--”
He stopped in some confusion.
”That's all right, Pete,” Dave said. ”I'm going to call Mr. Carson dad until I find my real one--if I ever do. No matter what happens, even if I do find my real folks, I can't forget that he has been as good as a father to me.”
”That's what he has, Dave,” said the foreman, solemnly. ”An' I hope you don't ever forget that. There's not many folks--not even a fellow's real ones--who can beat th' Old Man. He's th' real stuff an' twenty-four carats fine every time.”
Together they urged the now quieted cattle toward the corral.
”As I was sayin',” resumed Focus Pete, ”I come over here on a little errand for th' Old Man, an' I thought I'd take a run out here an' see about the prize bunch. It's good I did.”
”I should say so!” Dave exclaimed, fervently.
”Wasn't there any one to help you?” asked Pocus Pete.
”Not a soul. I did see Len Molick riding off--sneaking away. I called to him, but he didn't answer.”
”How did they break out?” Pete asked next.
”That's what's puzzling me,” replied the younger cowboy.
”Say! Look there!” suddenly called Pete, pointing. ”That's how they got out. A section of th' corral fence is down.”
”The gate didn't come open at all,” said Dave. ”The steers pushed down the fence.”
”Drive 'em through the opening,” directed Pete, and this was done. As the last of the cattle pa.s.sed in, Pete and Dave stood on guard astride their ponies to prevent the animals stampeding out again, and Dave looked at the broken fence. What he saw caused him to cry out:
”Look here, Pete! Some of those posts have been sawed almost through!”
”By the great side saddle!” exclaimed the foreman. ”You're right, Dave!
There's been treachery here!”
CHAPTER VI
A CRY FOR HELP
Together, Dave and Pocus Pete examined the posts of the corral fence.
There was no doubt but that some of them had been partly sawed through, in order to weaken them so that only a moderate pressure was required to break them off short, close to the ground.
”So that was his game; eh?” exclaimed Dave in a justifiably angry voice.
”Whose game?” asked Pocus Pete.
”Len's! That's why he wouldn't stop to help me. He had been here sawing through the posts so our best bunch of cattle would get out and be spoiled. The hound! Wait until I get hold of him!”
”Better go a bit slow,” advised Pocus Pete, in his drawling tones.