"No. He wouldn't have much chance at that, even if I was not on Crow."
Then Dave told the story of the encounter.
"Well," said Peter reflectively, "I reckon, just as some one said about dogs, that a certain amount of fleas was good for 'em, a little fightin' is good for some fellows. Are you sure Len got enough?" he asked anxiously.
"He said so," replied Dave, sententiously.
"Well, he ought to know," was Pete's dry comment.
Life at Bar U ranch went on in much the same way for many days. There was a great deal of work to be done, and Dave did his share. But, all the while, he could not shake from his mind the memory of the revealed secret regarding himself.
"I wonder who I am?" he asked himself again and again. But he could not answer. He made up his mind that some day he would have a long talk with Mr. Carson, and see if there was not some way in which clews to his lost parents could be obtained.
"There must be some," reflected Dave.
Mr. Bellmore had almost recovered now. He could ride his horse about, and often accompanied Dave on the latter's trips. The Chicago man could limp about fairly well, but in the West, at least on the cattle ranges, little walking is done. If a person has only to go across the street it is the most natural thing in the world to leap to the saddle to cover the distance.
"Well, I think I must get busy on that water business now," said Mr. Bellmore one day, when he and Dave had come in from a little round-up. "It won't do to wait any longer. My people will be wondering why I am taking such a long vacation."
"They know you were hurt; don't they?" asked Dave.