"No, nothing like that," Dave replied. "He jumped on the fast freight, and left his animal behind."
"Huh! Well, maybe it's jest as well," the foreman said. "It's one skunk less in a country that's got more than its share. That's a good horse," he went on, sizing up Len's mount.
"Yes," said Dave. "You'd better take it for awhile, and give yours a rest."
"I will,' said Pete, dismounting and leaping to the saddle of the other. It was a great relief for his own mount, whose shoulder was badly wrenched.
"This is forcin' th' enemy to give us aid an' comfort," commented Pocus Pete, as he settled to the saddle, having put on his own in place of the one Len used, which did not fit the foreman.
Back over the burned prairie they rode. It was hot with the heat of the sun, which rose higher and higher in the sky, and the air, though it was morning, still seemed to have in it some of the heat from the big fire.
Dave and his friends found Mr. Carson and the cowboys waiting anxiously for them. The story of the chase and its failure was soon told.
"Well, you did your best, Dave, and I'm much obliged to you," said Mr. Carson. "I agree with you that it looks as though the Molick crowd was getting desperate, and trying to drive us out of the country either by a stampede or by fire. If you hadn't discovered that blaze in time there's no telling what might have happened. Now I've got to plan what to do."
"And let me help—Dad," said Dave in a low voice. "I want to do all I can for you and the Bar U."
Mr. Carson did not reply at once, but he held out his hand and Dave grasped it in a firm clasp. They understood one another.