The endearing name slipped out before Dave was aware of it. A surge of red sprang up into his cheeks, under their tan.
"Don't stop calling me that, Dave," begged Mr. Carson in a low voice. "I have been a father to you—at least I've tried to be."
"And you've succeeded," Dave said, affectionately.
"And I want to keep on in the same way," said the man, softly. "So don't stop calling me dad, Dave. I—I couldn't bear that, even though I have no right to it. But you asked me a question just now. I'll answer that before I go on with the story.
"I did plan to leave here. I'm not making this ranch go, Dave, as I'd like to see it. I have been thinking of giving it up. But that was before I knew that my secret about you was known."
"Then you're not going now,—Dad?"
Dave hesitated just a moment over the name.
"No. It would look like desertion—cowardice—as if I went because this matter became known. It will get out soon enough now, since the Molick outfit knows it. But that's just the reason I'm going to stick. I won't fly in the face of the enemy. I won't desert!
"The real reason why I intended to go, though, Dave, is because the ranch isn't making money enough. It is holding its own, but that is not enough. As you know, I was, up to a year or so ago, pretty well off. But those unfortunate cattle speculations pulled me down, so now I am really, what would be called poor, as ranchmen go.
"But I'll make good!" declared the cattle owner. "I'm going to stick now, until something happens. It may be for the best, or it may be for the worst. But I'll stick until I'm fairly beaten!