smiled meaningly.

"Oh, we can't help it, if some of the Randolph cattle get mixed up with
our strays," said Len.

"Who's talkin' to you?" demanded Pocus Pete, with such fierceness that the
bully shrank back.

"Now you cut out what strays belong to you, an' let ours alone, Mr.
Wasson," went on Pocus Pete with exaggerated politeness. "Dave an' I can
take care of our own I reckon. An' move quick, too!" he added menacingly.

Whitey did not answer, but he and Len busied themselves in getting
together their own strays. Pocus Pete and Dave, with a little effort,
managed to collect their own bunch, and soon the two parties were moving
off in opposite directions. Dave sat silent on his horse. Pete glanced at
him from time to time, but said nothing. Finally, however, as they
dismounted to eat their lunch, Pete could not help asking:

"Have any trouble with them, Dave?"

"Trouble? Oh no."

Dave relapsed into silence, and Pete shook his head in puzzled fashion.
Something had happened, but what, he could not guess.

In unwonted silence Dave and Pete rode back to the Bar U ranch, reaching
it at dusk with the bunch of strays. They were turned in with the other
cattle and then Dave, turning his horse into the corral, walked heavily to
the ranch house. All the life seemed to have gone from him.