A CONFESSION


Something seemed to strike Dave Carson a blow in the face. It was as
though he had suddenly plunged into cold water, and, for the moment, he
could not get his breath. The sneering words of Len Molick rang in his
ears:

"You're a nameless, picked-up nobody!"

Having uttered those cruel words, Len was riding on, driving before him
some of his father's stray cattle, as well as some belonging to the Bar U
ranch. The last act angered Dave, and anger, at that moment, was just what
was needed to arouse him from the lethargy in which he found himself. It
also served, in a measure, to clear away some of the unpleasant feeling
caused by the taunt.

"Hold on there a minute, Len Molick!" called Dave, sharply.

Len never turned his head, and gave no sign of hearing.

A dull red spot glowed in each of Dave's tanned cheeks. With a quick
intaking of his breath he lightly touched the spurs to his horse--lightly,
for that was all the intelligent beast needed. Dave passed his taunting
enemy on the rush, and planting himself directly in front of him on the
trail, drew rein so sharply that his steed reared. The cows, scattered by
the sudden rush, ambled awkwardly on a little distance, and then stopped
to graze.

"What do you mean by getting in my way?" growled Len.