“I think we had better get together and make for the Gap. Bud may need help, Joe,” he said from the doorway.
Suddenly he straightened up and looked keenly down the trail. His eyes had caught sight of an object moving slowly towards the bunkhouse.
“Josephine’s dog,” he said aloud.
“What did you say, Jack?” Big Joe called from within.
“Josephine’s dog is coming down the trail and is limping badly,” he answered excitedly.
“Limping, you say, Jack?” Big Joe asked as he came out of the bunkhouse, the cowboys at his back.
“Yes,” Mason answered, “he must have got hurt some way.”
“Come here, old fellow,” he called, for the dog was almost up to them now.
The dog gave a whine of delight as he limped up to Mason and crouched at his feet.
“Poor fellow, his foot is bleeding,” he said as he bent over to examine the injured member. “Why, what’s this?” His eye had caught sight of something white tied to the dog’s collar.