know how to get along without you at the ranch here. You must stay!"

"Oh, yes, I'll stay," said Dave. And then he added, with, perhaps, the
least tinge of bitterness in his voice: "I have no where else to go."

"Then stay!" was the eager invitation. "I need you, Dave! And if those
skunks bother you any more--"

"Oh, I'm not worrying about them," Dave said, quickly. "I don't mind their
taunts. After all, it is no disgrace not to know who I am under the
circumstances. Perhaps, some day, I may find out."

"Perhaps," said Mr. Carson, softly, but he did not really believe that
such an event would happen.

"Is that all you can tell about me--Dad?" asked Dave.

"That's right! Don't forget to call me dad!" exclaimed the ranchman, and
his tone showed more delight than at any time since the talk. "For I am
just the same as your father. But, Dave, I'm afraid I can't give you any
clews. You were only a baby at the time, and I don't even remember just
now, much as to how you were dressed. You came down the flood in part of a
wrecked house. You were in a cradle in the exposed upper story when I got
you out. I was going around in a boat doing what rescue work I could. I
turned you over to some women, temporarily, and claimed you later. That's
about all there is to it. I came out West with you and--here we are now.
And now, since the secret is out, I'm going to make it known to all who
care to listen. There is no use trying to keep it under cover any more."

"What do you mean, Dad?"