"Oh, he stayed there on guard. Thought it best t' leave him there—to-night anyhow," the foreman said to Mr. Carson.
"I understand," was the answer. "We can't afford to lose any of those steers."
They were all up late at Bar U ranch that night, for the day had been a momentous one. Then, too, the visit of Mr. Bellmore had created a little diversion. He and Mr. Carson sat up for some time after the others had retired, talking irrigation matters.
"I wonder if I'll ever have a part in them?" reflected Dave, as he went to his room. "How long can I stay here, now that I know I am not Dave Carson—but somebody else? And who am I?"
Dave's wonderings were not of the most cheerful sort as he fell into an uneasy slumber.
CHAPTER XI
HAZARDOUS WORK
Cowboys rushing here and there. Dust arising in clouds, settling into a hazy mist, only to be shattered again, as some rushing rider rode recklessly through it. Yells, shouts, the snapping of whips, the barking of heavy calibred revolvers, now and then the shrill neigh of a cow-pony.
Above all a deep resonant note—a sort of distant thunder—a pounding of the earth as thousands of hoofs smote it at once.
That was the scene on which Dave Carson gazed, as he rose in his saddle, his breath coming in quicker measures, while a fierce light shone in his eyes, for he was having a part in it all.