"Careful, old boy," he cautioned his steed, for the going was anything but good. "It won't do for you to slip and stumble now."

But Crow had no intention of doing anything of the sort, and a little later Dave was galloping rapidly--across the gra.s.sy plain toward the lone horse.

"I hope he doesn't bolt and give me a chase," reflected the young cowboy.

"I haven't much time," and he looked at the declining sun, and thought of Pocus Pete on guard at the corral, waiting for help to mend the broken fence.

"It's all Len's fault, too--the mean skunk!" said Dave. "If it hadn't been for him the cattle wouldn't have gotten loose. Though I suppose if they hadn't I wouldn't have ridden home this way, and I wouldn't have discovered that man. Maybe it'll be a good thing, in the end."

Just how "good" this chance was to prove to Dave, the young cowboy little dreamed.

"Here Kurd! Kurd!" he called, as he approached the horse. Dave wondered how Mr. Bellmore had hit on that odd name. "Here, Kurd!" the youth called.

The horse, a beautiful and intelligent beast, raised his head, and looked at Dave approaching on Crow.

"Here you are, old boy. Kurd!" called the young ranchman again.

The other pony, who had been cropping the gra.s.s, moved off a short distance.

"That won't do!" Dave murmured. "If he once starts he'll keep going. Looks as if he had speed, too, but I think you can beat him, Crow, old boy," and he patted the neck of his faithful beast.

Kurd continued to amble slowly away. Then Dave thought of the sugar. He took the lumps out of his pocket and held them in the palm of his hand, at the same time bringing Crow to a stop.

Kurd raised his head, whinnied once or twice, stretched out his velvet muzzle, as though to smell what Dave held out, and then came slowly toward the youth.

"That's more like it," Dave murmured. "Now if you don't take a sudden notion, and bolt off just as I reach for your reins, I'll be all right.

Steady boy! Come on Kurd!"

The strange horse seemed to have cast his suspicions to the wind, and came fearlessly. A moment later he and Crow were sniffing at each other, and then Kurd took the sugar from Dave's palm. Then the lad grasped the reins, and, turning about, riding his own horse and leading Kurd, made for the place where he had left Mr. Bellmore.

"Good luck!" Dave called as he came in sight of the prostrate man. "I've got your horse, and now we'll soon be at the ranch."

"Fine! Now I'm going to ask you to do something else for me. This foot of mine is paining worse every minute, but I think if I could get my boot off, to allow room for that swelling to expand, it would ease me."

"I'll try," Dave said.

However, it was found impossible to pull off the footgear without so yanking on the injured foot that Mr. Bellmore nearly fainted again.

"Guess I'll have to cut it," Dave said, dubiously.

"Do then."

"It's a pity to spoil a good boot."

"Well, the chances are I won't be able to wear one again for a few weeks, and I simply can't stand this pain."

"Here goes," Dave said. With his keen knife he slit the leather. A sigh of relief came from the man.

"That's better-a whole lot better," he murmured.

It was no easy matter to get him astride his horse, but Dave finally managed it, and wrapped the swollen ankle in his own coat to prevent its striking against the side of Kurd as they rode off.

"How did you come to fall?" asked Dave, as he got into his own saddle, ready for the trip to the ranch.

"I'll explain later. I can't talk very well now. But I was prospecting around, looking at the rock formation, when I slipped. I thought it was all up with me, but my foot caught, and I was held suspended over the gully."

"I see," Dave replied. "Well, we'll doctor you up."

Carefully they made their way out of the rocky woodland, and started across the plain, toward Bar U ranch. As Dave took the lead, making as much speed as was possible under the circ.u.mstances, he saw, some distance in advance, a solitary horseman.

Again something in the peculiar saddle position of the rider attracted his attention.

"There's Len Molick again!" he exclaimed aloud. "I suppose he's hanging around to see how his trick worked!"

"Len Molick!" exclaimed Mr. Bellmore. "Why I want to see him. I have been looking for him!"

CHAPTER IX

DAVE MEETS LEN

Dave looked curiously at the man he had rescued. From him he glanced toward the figure of the young bullying cowboy whom he suspected of having been instrumental in causing the stampede.

"Do you know Len Molick?" asked Dave slowly, as he guided his horse along the trail.

"No, but I want to know him," was the answer. "I have a letter to him, and I understand that he is one of the influential cattle raisers in this vicinity."

Dave breathed easier. It was evident a mistake had been made.

"I guess it's Len's father, Mr. Jason Molick you want to meet," Dave said.

"That's right. Jason is the name!" admitted Mr. Bellmore. "I heard you mention the name Molick and I didn't pay much attention to the first part.

So there are two of them?"

"Yes, Len and his father,"

"Do you know them?"

"Oh, yes, every one around here knows them."

"You don't speak very enthusiastically," said Mr. Bellmore, with a strange look at the boy. "Is it possible that some error has been made on the part of those who gave me letters of introduction? Is not Mr. Molick influential in these parts?"

"Oh, yes, that's all right," a.s.sented Dave, and still his voice had no ring to it. "Mr. Molick is influential all right--too much so, at times."

"You don't seem to like him," said Mr. Bellmore. "I wish you would be frank with me. I am a stranger in these parts, and I have to depend on residents here for my information, and, in a large part, for my success. I know nothing about the Molicks."