"No, of course not. But look! Here's some fresh sawdust on the ground! The posts have been sawed within a few hours--perhaps even inside an hour. Maybe just before I came." Dave pointed to the moist earth under some of the splintered posts and boards. There was the fine sawdust where it had been preserved from the trampling hoofs of the steers. "Yes, th' job's been done recent," admitted Pocus Pete, "but that doesn't prove anythin'. Now if we could find a saw with Len's name on it, that might be some law-evidence. But I don't see any; do you?" There was no saw in sight. The cattle had retreated to the far side of the corral, leaving the part next the broken fence free for examination. But as Pete had said, there was no saw lying about. "He could easily have carried it away with him when he rode off," Dave said, following up his suspicion. "Yes, he could, an' he'd be foolish if he didn't--provided it was him as did this," agreed Pete. "Well, I'm sure he did," Dave insisted. "And I'll take it out of him for trying to spoil dad's best bunch of cattle." The word slipped from Dave almost before he knew it. But he did not care. As he had told Pocus Pete he was going to regard Mr. Carson as his father--he had thought of him so many years in that relationship that it was difficult to think otherwise. "Well, you be careful of what you do, Dave; that's my advice t' you," said Pete. "Why so? I'm not afraid of Len Molick," was Dave's quick response. "No, maybe not. Yet Len trails in with a middlin' mean crowd, an' though you are pretty good, you're no match for Whitey Wasson an' his bunch of cowpunchers." "But my quarrel is with Len, for I'm sure he did this." "That's all right. I have a sneakin' suspicion that way myself, but Len is a coward, as well as a bully, an' he'd howl for help if you went at him. An' Whitey is just th' kind t' pitch in on you if he saw you givin' Len a drubbin'. So you take my advice, an' go a bit slow." "I will. I won't have it out with Len until I can get him alone somewhere, and then I'll put it up to him." "Well, maybe that's a good way, though I don't approve of fightin' as a rule." "Oh, no! You don't!" laughed Dave, for it was a well known fact that Pocus Pete was considered the best man with his fists in that section of the country. "Oh, of course I'll fight when I have to. But I'm not goin' out of my way t' look for trouble." This was strictly true, and Dave knew it. Pocus Pete would never needlessly quarrel with any one, but once he had started on what he regarded as a right course, nothing would turn him aside until he had either vanquished or been beaten. And the latter was seldom the outcome. "Well, that's my case," said Dave. "I'm not going to put this on Len until I give him a chance to defend himself. But now, Pete, what are we going to do? We can't leave these choice cattle here in a broken corral. They'll stray all over the range."