"Rope him!"
Such were the wild cries that greeted Dave as he spurred away from the chuck wagon toward what seemed more than the usual commotion. A steer that had been roped and thrown that a new brand might be put over the almost obliterated one, had broken away and regained its feet and was wildly rushing here and there.
A lasso had been thrown over his head, and this now trailed in the dust Several of the cowboys, clapping spurs to their ponies, set off either to throw more ropes about the escaping beast, or else to grasp the trailing lariat.
"Take him, Dave!" cried Pocus Pete, who wanted the lad to get as much practical experience as possible.
"I'll get him," was the instant call in response.
"Look at him go!" murmured Mr. Bellmore, who half rose from a pile of blankets to watch the antics of the steer.
"Yes, that boy of mine can ride!" said Mr. Carson, who was looking on. A tender look came into his eyes.
No one looking at him would have suspected that, only a comparatively short time before, he had confessed to this same lad that there was no real relationship between them. That they were actually, strangers, save that there was a love between them that could only come of long association.
"Yes. He surely can ride," murmured the ranch owner. "If he lives I hope he'll succeed me as operator here. And if I can put through your irrigation scheme it will make Bar U one of the best ranches in this part of the country."
"Oh, we'll put it through all right," said the Chicago man. "Don't worry about that. We'll put it through."