"Well, son, did you get the bunch?" asked Mr. Carson as he greeted the
youth.

"Yes--I did," was the low answer. Mr. Carson glanced keenly at the lad,
and something he saw in his face caused the ranch owner to start.

"Was there any trouble?" he asked. It was the same question Pocus Pete had
propounded.

"Well, Len Molick and Whitey Wasson had some of our cattle in with
theirs."

"They did?"

"Yes, but Pete and I easily cut 'em out. But--Oh, Dad!" The words burst
from Dave's lips before he thought. "Am I your son?" he blurted out. "Len
and Whitey said I was a picked-up nobody! Am I? Am I not your son?"

He held out his hands appealingly.

A great and sudden change came over Mr. Carson. He seemed to grow older
and more sorrowful. A sigh came from him.

Gently he placed one arm over the youth's drooping shoulders.

"Dave," he said gently. "I hoped this secret would never come out--that
you would never know. But, since it has, I must tell you the truth. I love
you as if you were my own son, but you are not a relative of mine."