me-may have hoped for a different answer from the ranchman. Doubtless he did so hope

't know who you are, who your parents are

e seemed crushed. Mr. Carson

me explanation," said t

. I suppose I should have done it before, but I have

r. Carson. "If they had only kept still a little longer you mi

from he

ave was aware of it. A surge of red spr

Mr. Carson in a low voice. "I have been a

eeded," Dave sai

ling me dad, Dave. I-I couldn't bear that, even though I have no right to it. But

as I'd like to see it. I have been thinking of giving it up.

e not going

just a moment

own. It will get out soon enough now, since the Molick outfit knows it. But that's jus

lding its own, but that is not enough. As you know, I was, up to a year or so ago, pretty well off. But those

stick now, until something happens. It may be for the best, or

. I can't go into the cattle business on a large enough scale because of the lack of water. Rollin

. And now I'll tell you the secret concerning you-that is as much of it as I know. It i

I am?" Dave aske

wish I could either really find your parents, or know th

a hankering to get out West and raise cattle. I had lived on a ranch when I was a small lad-in f

ing there came a big flood that practically wiped out the town where I was then living, as well as a number o

kage of houses, barns and other debris that

t his brea

. I fell in love with you right away, and so did a number of women folks who were helping in the rescue work

been about to start for the West when the flood came, but I delayed a bit, wanting to give your parents, if they were alive, a fai

y parents are-are d

many grown folk and children who perished in the f

I made no effort, at the time I rescued you, to conceal the fact that I had, in a measure, adopted you. I suppose Whitey

ll make no difference to you-knowing this secret. I want you to continue living here just as you always have. In fact it would

ace to go. And I certainly owe you a deep debt of gratitu

e it. I will legally adopt you if necessary. And as for owing me-don't name it! You were welcome to all I could do, and

dded, with, perhaps, the least tinge of bitter

tion. "I need you, Dave! And if t

mind their taunts. After all, it is no disgrace not to know who

ly, but he did not really believ

can tell about me

n't even remember just now, much as to how you were dressed. You came down the flood in part of a wrecked house. You were in a cradle in the exposed upper story when I got you out. I was going around in a boat doing what rescue work I could. I turned you over to some

you mea

take the wind out of the sails of Molick, Wasson and their lik

about it," Dave said. "He must have

im the whole story.

g it. But no one thought the less of Dave. In fact his friends and those of Mr. Carson were warmer than

it. But though he called Mr. Carson "Dad" there was more or less of reserve.

may find o

occupied, and he saw little of Len and his crony. But one day Len and Dave had a "run-in." Dave, who was riding range, came upon Len in the ac

that!" ordered

r?" snee

se I s

't your

ou abuse him that way. You quit, or I'll

. Nobody!" sneere

such a fierce look on his face that Len hast

when, at a safe distance, he paused

hound!" mu

cattle were quartered. These had been cut out and herded by themselves, to get ready fo

ing away over the plain, glad to be able to report to Mr. Carson that the cattle

small stampede, rushing from the corral,

and rode straight at the oncoming steers, shouting and waving his hat in on