"The corral is broke in forty places and all the stock gone. I suppose this fool rode his wild horse into the herd and stampeded it. I found him running the bull like he and his horse was both loco."
Douglas uttered an oath. "Nothing of the kind! When I got there, the herd was gone and I'd just picked up the trail when the bull came along."
Charleton looked from one young man to the other. Doug with his long face entirely expressionless, sitting easily sidewise in his saddle; Scott, face flushed, eyes angry, standing tense in the stirrups. There came an ugly twist to Charleton's lips, but after a moment he spoke coolly.
"You fellows help me up on Democrat and we'll beat it for home."
"But you don't believe the Moose—" began Doug. But Charleton interrupted.
"If I wasn't crippled I'd mighty soon show you fellows what I believed. As it is, I'm going home. But if I find either of you has double-crossed me, I'll square accounts."
There was that in Charleton's eyes which caused the two riders to dismount without a word. They heaved him into his saddle and, with his lariat, arranged a sling for his injured ankle. When they had made him as comfortable and secure as possible, Scott said politely:
"You don't need two of us, Charleton. I think I'll go after a bear I saw in the raspberry patch beyond the corral."
"Nothing doing, Scott!" grunted Charleton.
"You've fallen down on the job, Charleton," Scott laughed, "so you've lost your right to boss."