"Huh! I can't help it, can I, if your cows tag along with our strays?"
demanded Len with a sneer.

"That's what I'm here for--to help prevent it," Dave went on, and his
voice was a trifle sharp. "The Bar U ranch can't afford to lose any strays
these days," he resumed. "The Carson outfit needs all it can get, and, as
representative of the Carson interests I'll just cut out those strays of
ours, Len, and head them the other way."

"Huh! What right have you got to do it?"

"What right? Why my father sent me to gather up our strays. I saw some of
them up here yesterday."

"Your father?" The sneer in Len's voice was unmistakable.

"Yes, of course," said Dave, wondering what was the matter with Len. "My
father, Randolph Carson."

"He isn't your father!" burst out Len in angry tones. "And you aren't his
son! You're a nameless picked-up nobody, that's what you are! A nobody!
You haven't even a name!"

And with this taunt on his lips Len spurred his horse away from Dave's.




CHAPTER III