"I've had all the riding I want for one day," answered the shipowner's son.
"That's right," grumbled Roger. They had had only a quarter of an hour's rest for lunch. "I reckon some of us will be stiff in the morning," and he was right, all felt somewhat sore.
The round-up had been a careful one, for Mr. Endicott had heard that Mr. Merwell was finding fault over the way some of his cattle were being chased by the cowboys. The following afternoon the Merwells—father and son—met Mr. Endicott as he and Belle were riding along the trail, talking over the family's plans for the coming winter.
"See here, I want to speak about my cattle," cried Mr. Merwell, wrathfully, as he drew rein.
"Some time when I am alone, Mr. Merwell," answered the railroad president. He quickly saw that his neighbor was "spoiling for a fight."
"Your men took three or four of my steers," went on Mr. Merwell. "I won't stand for it."
"That can't be so, Mr. Merwell. My man, Todd, is a careful rounder, and he told me he was sure of the brands."
"He ain't careful at all," broke in Link. "He drinks and he don't know what he is doing."
"This is an affair between your father and myself," said Mr. Endicott, stiffly. "You will kindly keep out of it."
"Huh! I guess I can have my say!" growled Link.