Cowboy Dave | Page 5

did." Dave did not seem at all proud of his achievement." But
that was some time ago," he added." I haven't seen Len lately."
"Well, you haven't missed an awful lot," said Pete, dryly.
The two rode on in silence again, gradually coming nearer and nearer to
the specks which had so enlarged themselves, by reason of the closing
up of the intervening distance, until they could be easily distinguished
as a number of cattle and one lone rider. The latter seemed to be
making his way toward the animals.
"Is he driving them ahead of him?" asked Dave, after a long and silent
observation.
"That's the way it looks," said Pocus Pete. "It's Len Molick all right,"
he added, after another shading of his eyes with his hand.
"Are you sure?" Dave asked.
"Positive. No one around here rides a horse in that sloppy way but
him."
"Then he must have found some of his father's strays, and is taking
them to the ranch."
"I'm not so sure of that," Pete said.
"Not so sure of what?"
"That the cattle are all his strays. I wouldn't be a bit surprised but what
some of ours had got mixed up with 'em. Things like that have been
known to happen you know."
"Do you' think---" began Dave.
"I'm not goin' to take any chances thinkin'," Pete said significantly. "I'm
going to make sure."
"Look here, Dave," he went on, spurring his pony up alongside of the

young cowboy's. "My horse is good an fresh an' Len's doesn't seem to
be in such good condition. Probably he's been abusin' it as he's done
before. Now I can take this side trail, slip around through the bottom
lands, an' get ahead of him."
"But it's a hard climb up around the mesa, Pete."
"I know it. But I can manage it. Then you come on up behind Len,
casual like. If he has any of our cattle--by mistake," said Pete,
significantly, "we'll be in a position to correct his error. Nothin' like
correctin' errors right off the reel, Dave. Well have him between two
fires, so to speak."
"All right, Pete. I'll ride up behind him, as I'm doing now, and you'll
head him off; is that it?"
"That's it. You guessed it first crack out of th' box. If nothin's wrong,
why we're all right; we're up this way to look after our strays. And if
somethin' is wrong, why we'll be in a position to correct it--that's all."
"I see." There was a smile on Dave's face as his cowboy partner, with a
wave of his hand, turned his horse into a different trail, speeding the
hardy little pony up so as to get ahead of Len Molick.
Dave rode slowly on, busy with many thoughts, some of which had to
do with the youth before him. Len Molick was about Dave's own age,
that is apparently, for, strange as it may seem, Dave was not certain of
the exact number of years that had passed over his head.
It was evident that he was about eighteen or nineteen. He had recently
felt a growing need of a razor, and the hair on his face was becoming
wiry. But once, when he asked Randolph Carson, about a birthday, the
ranch owner had returned an evasive answer.
"I don't know exactly when your birthday does come, Dave," he had
said. "Your mother, before she--before she died, kept track of that. In
fact I somtimes forget when my own is. I think yours is in May or June,
but for the life of me I can't say just which month. It doesn't make a lot

of difference, anyhow."
"No, Dad, not especially. But just how old am I?"
"Well, Dave, there you've got me again. I think it's around eighteen.
But your mother kept track of that, too. I never had the time. Put it
down at eighteen, going on nineteen, and let it go at that. Now say,
about that last bunch of cattle we shipped--"
Thus the ranchman would turn the subject. Not that Dave gave the
matter much thought, only now, somehow or other, the question
seemed to recur with increased force.
"Funny I don't know just when my birthday is," he mused. "But then
lots of the cowboys forget theirs."
The trail was smooth at this point, and Dave soon found himself close
to Len, who was driving ahead of him a number of cattle. With a start
of surprise Dave saw two which bore the Bar U brand.
"Hello, Len," he called.
Len Molick turned with a start. Either he had not heard Dave approach,
or he had pretended ignorance.
"Well, what do yon want?" demanded the surly bully.
"Oh, out after strays, as you are," said Dave, coolly.