This was one of the tributaries of Rolling River, the valley of which was
at one time one of the most fertile sections of the largest of our Western
cattle states. The tributary divided into two parts, or branches, shortly
above its junction with Rolling River. Hence its name. Forked Branch came
down from amid a series of low foot-hills, forming the northern boundary
of Mr. Randolph Carson's ranch.

"We sure have one fine day for ridin'," observed Pocus Pete, as he urged
his pony up alongside Dave's.

"That's right," agreed the youth.

For several miles they rode on, speaking but seldom, for a cowboy soon
learns the trick of silence--it is so often forced on him.

As they turned aside to take a trail that led to Forked Branch, Dave, who
was riding a little ahead, drew rein. Instinctively Pocus Pete did the
same, and then Dave, pointing to the front, asked:

"Is that a man or a cow?"




CHAPTER II

THE TAUNT