"Better him than you," murmured Mr. Carson. "Are you sure you're all right, Dave, my boy?" he asked anxiously.
"Oh, yes I'm a bit shaken up, but I'll be all right. I can go on with the round-up."
"You can—but you'll not!" was the ranch owner's decision. "I want you to take a little rest. The worst of the job's over, anyhow."
Dave was nothing loath to have a little respite, and as he came up to the chuck wagon, where Mr. Bellmore was eagerly waiting for him, the Chicago man said:
"Well, I never expected to see you come up this way, Dave," and he held out a welcoming hand.
"Oh, we get used to little things like that."
"Little things!" exclaimed the irrigation engineer. "Well, I thought I had a hard time when I was hanging over that gully. But that wasn't a circumstance to yours."
"It's all in the day's work," said Dave with a shrug of his shoulders, as he sank down on a pile of sacks.
"He's grit clear through," thought the visitor. "I like him more every day
I see him."
As for Dave, in addition to the thankfulness in his heart that he was not hurt, and that his favorite pony had escaped, was a deep sense of gratitude for the manner manifested toward him by Mr. Carson. No father could have showed more love toward his own son than the ranch owner did toward his ward, his nameless ward.