draw, eh, old-timer?"

Scott swore, but rode ahead at a steady trot until they reached the
noonday camp. Charleton looked at them in astonishment.

"Call this damn fool off my back, will you, Charleton?" drawled Scott.
"He's mad because I called him for letting that wild cayuse of his
stampede the herd."

"He's a liar! This is as good a cow-pony as he ever rode and better.
Ain't a better horse in Lost Chief than this same Moose. He was after the
bull like a hound after a coyote when Scott broke in on us, the dirty--"

"Hold on," interrupted Charleton, "What's your story, Scott?"

"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