Pocus Pete shaded his eyes with his hand and gazed long and earnestly in
the direction indicated by Dave Carson. The two cow-ponies, evidently glad
of the little rest, nosed about the sun-baked earth for some choice morsel
of grass.

"It might be either--or both," Pete finally said.

"Either or both?" repeated Dave. "How can that be?"

"Don't you see two specks there, Dave? Look ag'in."

Dave looked. His eyes were younger and perhaps, therefore, sharper than
were those of the foreman of Bar U ranch, but Dave lacked the training
that long years on the range had given the other.

"Yes, I do see two," the youth finally said, "But I can't tell which is
which."

"I'm not altogether sure myself," Pete said, quietly and modestly. "We'll
ride a little nearer," he suggested, "an' then we can tell for sure. I
guess we're on th' track of some strays all right."

"Some strays, Pete? You mean our strays; don't you?" questioned Dave.

"Well, some of 'em 'll be, probably," was the quiet answer. "But you've
got t' remember, Dave, that there's a point of land belongin' t' Centre O
ranch that comes up there along the Forked Branch trail. It may be some of
Molick's strays."

"That's so. I didn't think of that, Pete. There's more to this business