dirt out of his streaming eyes.

"Make it as quick as you can, Scott," called Charleton. Then to Douglas,
"Get busy with the whiskey and coffee, Doug. He ought to be back by the
time you've fixed up a snack."

But Scott was long in returning.

"Oughtn't he to be back?" asked Doug, when the bacon was ready.

Charleton looked at his watch. "He's been gone over an hour. After you
eat, you go see what kind of trouble he's in, Doug."

Douglas devoured the bacon and bread, then mounted and rode slowly
through the silent, scented forest. His blue eyes danced with excitement,
his tanned cheeks burned as he guided the Moose through the quivering
aspens to the corral. Here he pulled up with a sudden oath. The corral
was empty, the fence torn open in half a dozen places.

"That blankety-blank old bull must have started a stampede!" gasped
Douglas. "I wouldn't have thought Scott would have left him free in
here!"

He rode through and around the corral. Cattle tracks led in every
direction. He trotted in widening circles. Perhaps a mile north of the
corral, he pulled up and looked closely at the ground. Single cattle
tracks here converged and a herd track led on northward. As he stared
at it, the bull came thundering down the trail. Doug put the Moose after
him but had not followed him for five minutes when Scott broke into the
chase from the right.