As he walked up to the ranch house he was met by Mr. Carson and Pocus
Pete, both of whom looked at him rather eagerly and anxiously.
"Well, son," began the ranch owner, "how did you make out?"
"Pretty fair, Dad," was the answer. "There were more cattle than you led us to expect, and there were more strays than we calculated on. In fact we didn't get near all of them."
"Is that so, Dave?" asked Pocus Pete, quickly. "Whereabouts do you reckon them strays is hidin'?"
"The indications are they're up Forked Branch way. That's where we got some, and we saw more away up the valley, but we didn't have time to go for them, as we had a little trouble; and Tubby and the others thought we'd better come on, and go back for the strays to-morrow."
"Trouble, Dave?" asked Mr. Carson, looking up suddenly.
"Well, not much, though it might have been. We saw some men we took to be rustlers heading for our bunch of cattle, but they rode off when we started for them. Some of the boys wanted to follow but it looked as though it might storm, and Tubby said we'd better move the bunch while we could, and look after the rustlers and strays later."
"Yes, I guess that was best," the ranch owner agreed. "But where were these rustlers from, Dave?"
"Hard to say, Dad. Looked to be Mexicans."
"I reckon that'd be about right," came from Pocus Pete. "We'll have to be on th' watch, Mr. Carson."